


Jealous Guy

by Jtargaryen18 (snowqueen79), snowqueen79



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Smut, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/pseuds/Jtargaryen18, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/pseuds/snowqueen79
Summary: You’d been one of the people he’d been seeing non-exclusively. A friends-with-benefits arrangement. Yeah, you messed up and gave your heart to him, so you faded into the background fast. Why then does he show up on your doorstep? Are you really going to spend the quarantine with him?
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader
Comments: 113
Kudos: 303





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first RPF by request. Let me know what you think.

Scott: I ran by your house to get my sunglasses.

Chris: Okay. Did you let Dodger out while you were there?

Scott: Was I supposed to?

Chris: 🙄

Shaking his head, Chris climbed out of his SUV and walked into his house. Sure enough, Dodger made a beeline out the door.

Well, in his defense, he’d been at the gym longer than he normally was.

Chris checked the mail, waiting until Dodger was done with business and they went back in the house. Chris headed for the kitchen to get them some lunch.

That’s when he saw it.

Where had _that_ come from?

Your Minnie Mouse hoodie was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, reminding him of the last night he’d seen you. He couldn’t help the smile that brought to his face.

You’d worked with him on the set of _Defending Jacob_. You went out sometimes, hung out sometimes. It was strictly friends-with-benefits and you knew that from the start. He went out with a couple of other women too though they weren’t on set. One he’d been seeing regularly longer than you but that had ended before his weekend with you. The other one had become a huge problem the morning after the first time he’d slept with her. That had taken _weeks_ to deal with.

The last day of filming, several of you had gone out for drinking, bowling. He broke his own rule and brought you home that night.

As he fed Dodger, he couldn’t help remember having you pressed up against the wall in his living room. Then he _had_ you on the stairs because he couldn’t climb the stairs drunk with his pants around his ankles.

Somehow the two of you had made it to his bedroom, both of you hammered, and slept until the next afternoon. He’d felt so bad about the marks on your back from the stairs that he’d given you a backrub, ran a bath for the two of you. You’d ordered takeout and watched a _Rick and Morty_ marathon until late, both of you dozing.

For once, you hung out without drinking and the conversation was… better. There were comfortable silences. It had been easy.

Sex that night had been nice with you on top and the shadows from the TV playing across your body as you rode him. By the time he’d brought you off, left you breathless over him with your hands planted on his chest, he couldn’t take it anymore. Hoping your back would be okay, he rolled you under him and just pounded you into the bed.

Chris had thought about that night a lot since. It wasn’t just a bit of fun after a night of drinking.

No, he remembered the little details. He recalled the way your sweat-slick skin felt under his fingertips. The smell of the ocean on your damp hair when he pressed his face into it, his lower body driving into yours. The urgency of your embrace, the gentle strength of your arms and legs wrapped around him like you’d never let him go as he fought for release.

When Sunday rolled around and you’d been there the entire weekend, you’d surprised him by making pancakes. It had been domestic and was a lot more than he usually allowed. He found you in the kitchen, barefoot in your jeans and his shirt, laughing with Scott as you cooked.

And oddly, it hadn’t been the least bit awkward. Scott had stayed to eat breakfast and you had talked way more to his brother than him. When Scott finally made his exit, Chris remembered wondering just how exactly he was going wrap the weekend up.

You did it for him. You’d bounced up the stairs to get a shower. And yeah, he’d already showered. But he hadn’t been able to resist when you’d started singing Bon Jovi, _badly._ He’d jumped in there with you for another round of sex. You’d planted your hands on the wall of his shower, bending forward and letting him get his hands on that perfect ass and fuck you from behind. It had been _so_ good.

He still really felt bad about the marks on your back…

You’d gotten dressed while he thought about what he was going to say. You’d done the best you could with your hair – he thought you looked adorable – while he considered what he’d do if you got upset. 

Chris wasn’t ending anything with you. No. He just didn’t want you to have the wrong idea from spending the weekend in his house.

But then the strangest thing happened. Your uber showed up. You’d grabbed your backpack, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and waved on your way out.

Chris had breathed a sigh of relief. Things had stayed casual, friendly. And it had been a great weekend of sex and chilling out despite the fact that you’d stayed the weekend which was usually a little too close to a relationship for him.

That relief was short-lived.

Now as he walked over to the chair and grabbed the hoodie, he pressed it to his face. You’d left it behind, and that weekend had been weeks ago. But he could still smell _you_ on it.

Chris hadn’t heard anything from you since.

Things had been a scramble for him since with getting ready to launch his site, getting ready for the Boston con which just got canceled, and looking over scripts for his next project. He realized he hadn’t reached out to you either.

Had he thought about you? That weekend?

_Yes._

As he went about making himself something to eat, Chris picked his phone back up, deciding to look you up on social media.

The latest image on your Instagram stopped him cold. 

It was a picture of you, your sweet face wearing that smile that you only smiled when you were a little buzzed. And you were sitting on the lap of another man, broad shoulders with dark hair and eyes, cheek-to-cheek, with his arms around you.

_What the fuck?_

Chris put the phone down, huffed out an exhale.

He shouldn’t be upset. You hadn’t been in a relationship. Strictly friends. That had been the agreement from the start.

His upset at the picture that was posted two days ago was unreasonable. He _knew_ that. There wasn’t a bit of damn action required on his part. All he had to do was wish you well and move on.

Except he couldn’t…

Chris tried. He had breakfast, made his way through messages. There was still so much to do with ASP right now. He was able to kill a couple of hours there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Chris pulled up his text conversation with you. Before he could stop himself, he sent you a message.

Chris: Hey, you.

You were in his phone as “Set Slave” but he couldn’t remember if he’d done that or you had. When he didn’t receive an immediate reply, he went to get some laundry done. He made a real effort not to check his phone until after he’d cleaned up the kitchen.

No answer.

Why was he even worrying about this?

_Why do you care? Meatball._

Chris took Dodger to run some errands and he wasn’t proud of himself for checking his phone here and there. He had messages from his mother, Scott again, his assistant.

None from you.

He didn’t like the way his heart sank at not getting an answer. You usually got back to him within five minutes.

Then again, that had been when you were on set. That had been your job.

That thought made it even worse.

Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair, carried his takeout into the house as he walked Dodger in. He hadn’t intended to check your Instagram again. But he did. A new picture posted today.

You were on another set from the looks of it, glancing over your shoulder at whoever took the picture. Your hair was pulled back from your face. The t-shirt you wore showed off the swell of your breasts. Your flannel was tied around your waist, you always did that.

The male hand at your lower back on top of the flannel?

_What the fuck was that all about?_

Chris tried to put it out of his head the rest of the evening. He even meditated, trying to get his mind to shut up. He went to bed early, checked out a new movie on Netflix. He didn’t check his phone again until he was ready to go to sleep.

Set Slave: Hey. What’s up?

It was sent at 12:45 AM. _Just ten minutes ago._

Chris: I have something of yours.

Set Slave: Yeah? What’s that?

Chris smiled. You were there. Talking to him.

Chris: Missing any hoodies?

It was a good ten minutes before you answered that. Chris hated himself for wondering what you were doing. You were probably brushing your teeth, getting ready for bed.

What if you were in bed with the guy from the picture?

_Stop._

Set Slave: Wait. Did you find my Minnie Mouse hoodie? I wondered where it went. I must have left it there.

You had indeed. He’d pulled it off you, tossed it off the stairs that night…

Chris: That’s the one.

Set Slave: Thank you for finding it. Next time I’m in the area, I’ll shoot you a text and see if I can swing by and get it.

It was _not_ the answer he was expecting. _Seriously?_

Chris: If you have a free night sometime, I could meet you for dinner or drinks and bring it with me.

He immediately regretted sending that the minute he hit the button. _Desperate much?_

Five minutes went by. Five long minutes.

Set Slave: Okay. Sounds good. But I won’t hold you to it. I know you’re busy.

Chris recognized a brush off when he got one. It had just been a while. He didn’t like the hollow feeling in his chest as he put the phone down on his bedside table.

It had just been a friends-with-benefits type of deal. He’d been honest from the beginning. You’d agreed to it.

Staring up at the ceiling, it took him a long time to fall asleep.

***

“You heading out?”

You turned around to wave at none other than _the_ Antonio Banderas. You nodded.

“See you Monday,” you called back to him.

You were his assistant on the set of this independent film and a nicer gentleman – if you looked up gentleman in the dictionary that man’s face would be right next to the definition – you’d never met. And he wasn’t high maintenance. You kept track of his wardrobe, his scripts, his messages. You made sure he had what he needed when he needed it. The darling man made it so easy.

If only _all_ actors were so easy to work with.

_Chris had been easy to work with._

Blowing out an exhale, you tried to push that thought and that man right out of your head.

Sure, Chris had been wonderful to work with. He’d been as polite and courteous as Antonio, but he was younger, funny. Self-deprecating a lot of the time. Unbelievably gorgeous.

The first time he’d invited you along on an outing, you’d been awestruck. Who wouldn’t be? You’d gone out for beers, played pool in a seedy, out-of-the-way bar on the edge of the city. Chris hadn’t been the only actor in your group, but he’d been the only one in the group you’d been aware of. You’d made it so easy for him.

The next outing you’d both ended up sloppy drunk and you hired an Uber to take you back home. Chris had climbed into the Uber with you, followed you into your apartment and you’d ended up making out on your sofa for a good hour that night. Then he’d ended up in your bed.

What a night _that_ had been.

The next morning brought a painful hangover and a painful lesson. He’d been so nervous, pacing in your kitchen and explaining to you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship. It had been all you could do to keep the tears at bay. But you’d listened. And you understood. You hadn’t been expecting him to fall for you just because he followed you home and into your bed. You knew what he wanted. You gave it to him.

And Chris made sure you knew the score. He really liked you. He really liked last night. He wanted to see you again, but he had to be honest.

Chris had stood there in your kitchen in his too-tight shirt and jeans with those blue, blue eyes begging you to understand. There would never be a time when things between you would be anything more than what happened the night before. You weren’t even the only girl he was seeing.

You appreciated the honesty. You did.

It did nothing to keep you from feeling like an insignificant pile of dirt.

By Monday, you were back on set, doing your job. You’d told yourself that you wouldn’t be doing that again. Chris may be a famous actor, but you didn’t want to be anyone’s fuck buddy. You deserved better than that. And he acted just the same. Sweet, funny, unfailingly kind as you helped him through the production. Maybe he was just playing it off like it never even happened?

Oh, no.

Chris followed you home Friday night. Ordered takeout, made himself at home in your apartment. It became a weekly thing with the exception of one weekend when he let you low-key know that he was out with one of the other women he was seeing. That had been a long fucking weekend.

And a reminder that you didn’t need to be putting yourself through it all. There was only one ending to the story and he already told you what it was.

The last weekend of production rolled around and a group of you went out. Chris had been so odd that night. He’d been very touchy-feely with you. You’d tried to shrug him off, afraid he was really drunk and praying no pictures turned up in the tabloids anywhere. You didn’t want him upset.

That night you’d been drunk too though not as drunk as him. He’d taken you back to his house in Laurel Canyon. And you’d spent the entire weekend there.

It was that weekend when you realized that you’d screwed up. You’d lost your heart to him.

So you made the decision to enjoy that weekend and when it was over, _everything_ was over. Production was over. All you had to do was fade into the background and you thought you’d successfully managed that. You wouldn’t have to see him again. You didn’t try to contact him. You didn’t hear from him.

It was all for the best.

So why was Chris texting you again? Your hoodie? He could have the damned thing. Yeah, like you needed a reminder that you’d stupidly fallen in love with a man you could _never_ have.

To your relief, he hadn’t sent any other texts when you checked your phone. You did have a message from Sabrina who also worked as a PA on many of the sets you worked. She wanted to know if you wanted to go out to a club.

_Sounds like a good idea._

It felt good to get dressed up, to do winged eyeliner and put on a flirty dress with heels. Sabrina texted you when she got there and the two of you rode in her car to the club.

You’d taken Chris to the club a couple of times, but it was never for long. Someone always spotted him. It just meant you were back to your apartment that much faster and one thing led to another.

As you tucked your phone away into your bag, you smiled at Sabrina. _No thinking about Chris tonight. You’re going to have a good time._

And the night started out great. You and Sabrina met a couple of friends you worked with. Jordan was a costumer you worked with often. Mr. tall, dark, and handsome was a wonderful dancer too. Sometimes his boyfriend joined you guys on the dance floor, but most of the time not. Tonight, Keith was content to do Tequila shots with Sabrina who had a blister from her new heels.

You took a break, headed for the restroom. When you came back, you asked for a shot of Jack. You wanted to keep your buzz going for another hour, dance a little more, then call it a night. And that’s just how it went. Sabrina was getting friendly with the bartender. So you got a cab for yourself, told Jordan and Keith goodbye, and headed out.

When you got to your apartment, you struggled a little to get your key in the lock. You heard your name and it had you spinning around. A little too fast.

Chris smiled as he steadied you.

_What the hell was he doing here?_

There he was in a deep blue sweater and jeans, looking more handsome than any man had a right to. His gaze moved over you, the longing in his gaze like a spike in your heart.

“Chris?” you had to ask. “What are you doing here?”

That charming smile faded just a little.

_Oh, this was bad. This was so bad._

Realizing you were still hanging onto his forearms, you let go of him. Chris kept his hands on your waist, his touch careful.

He hesitated, dropped his gaze. Slowly, he released his grip on you.

“Can we talk?” he asked in the quiet of the hallway. It was after 2 in the morning.

It wasn’t a good idea.

“Sure,” is what you said, and you let him into your apartment.

You dropped heavily onto your couch, watching as he stood there in your living room. You didn’t want him there, but oh, God, _yes you did_.

_Stop._

He’s here, you’re drunk. You have no idea what he wants.

_Chris is your weakness._

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen, Chris,” you said carefully. “But we’re going to talk and then I’m going to need you to leave.”

That stopped him.

Folding his arms across his chest, he finally forced himself to meet your gaze. You’d seen his anxiety before at odd moments. Usually, it was nerves at press junkets or filming certain scenes.

“I’m… I’m not here for sex,” Chris said quietly.

You shook your head.

“Then why are you here?” Hadn’t you only ever been sex for Chris?

“I want another chance with you,” he admitted.


	2. Chapter 2

“Another chance?” You didn’t understand. “That would suggest we even had what you could call a relationship before… We didn’t, Chris. We hooked up a few times… That’s all.”

You hated how small you sounded. Where you found the courage to get that out? Had to be the alcohol. You just hoped he couldn’t see how badly you were shaking from where you sat on the couch.

Huffing out an exhale, Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay… I can see why you’d say that.” His gaze had dropped to the carpet and he looked lost in his thoughts, color rising from the collar of his sweater.

“What brought this on?” you asked him.

That got his attention. “What?”

“I haven’t heard anything from you for weeks,” you replied. “I didn’t expect to but… I wasn’t expecting you to show up at my apartment at two in the morning either.”

His gaze held yours, his eyes filled with some emotion you couldn’t name. “I didn’t hear from you either. Why is that?”

You shrugged, then wrapped your arms around yourself. He watched your movements carefully.

“Filming finished,” you said simply. “I was heading for another set. You have a dozen things going on. It just seemed like a good place to leave it, you know?”

“To leave it?” Chris took a step closer, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that… Chris, you told me from the start that this was just friends having sex. You made that very clear. You even told me you were seeing other people, so I thought…”

“You thought?” he pressed, taking a seat on the couch next to you.

While you preferred him next to you as opposed to standing above you, it felt too intimate. Too much. You started to get up. His hand on your arm stayed you.

Your name was a quiet whisper.

“You’re trembling,” Chris pointed out. “What happened? That last weekend. At my place… It was a good weekend. At least I _thought_ it was… Did I… Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, God,” his blue eyes rounded in concern. “If I hurt you on the—”

“No.” Your laugh cut him off. “Don’t bring up the damn stairs again.”

Oh, _why_ had you made him smile? That smile did things to you. Made you want to crawl into his lap.

“It was the hoodie,” he said after a moment, that smile fading. “I found it and I realized that I hadn’t heard from you. That’s on _me_ too… I just, I thought about that weekend…”

“And what?” you asked. “You missed me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” The word didn’t come out as nonchalantly as you wanted. “I guess it is.”

“Why?” Chris planted a hand on the couch between you, leaning closer.

“You told me from the start that you weren’t looking for a relationship,” you reminded him. “And that you didn’t want to see anyone exclusively.”

“I did,” Chris admitted. His demeanor was different somehow. He dropped his gaze, his jaw locked.

Now you lowered your gaze. “Chris, you were honest with me. I appreciate it… It’s just… This isn’t me. You know? I’ve never been in a friends-with-benefits kind of deal before. I probably won’t do it again. I gave it a try. I did… God, don’t hate me. It’s just… by the time filming ended on the show and that weekend ended? I just… I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

You couldn’t look at him. You could feel his gaze on you. You could feel the weight and intensity of his emotions.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you felt the need to add. “I just… I needed to let you go.”

You flinched in surprise at the feel of his hand sliding up your back, up to gently clasp the back of your neck.

“Hey,” his voice was a low purr next to your ear. “Look at me.”

You didn’t want to. And when you did, he was close. So close that his face was mere inches away from your own.

The alcohol running through your veins didn’t help. You could smell the rich tones of the scent he wore, the warmth of his breath. His eyes were so blue, and it felt like he could see right through you.

When a tear slid from the corner of your eye, his other hand lifted to your face, catching it with the pad of his thumb.

“The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you,” Chris whispered. “That’s what I was… trying to avoid.”

You nodded, struggling to hold his gaze.

“But I did, didn’t I?” he whispered.

Slowly, you nodded.

“So you wanted another chance?” your voice shook. “Another round? I can’t, Chris. I just can’t… I hope you understand.”

Chris wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him and held you there. The tears came then, sliding from your eyes and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop them. It felt so good to be held by him, a stolen moment in the warmth of his arms. His hands were gentle as they smoothed over you.

“What if…” Chris spoke close to your ear, his face pressed into your hair. “What if another round, what we had before, wasn’t… what I was after?”

“Yes, it was.” Your tears were in your voice.

Carefully, you pulled back from him. Wanting to look him in the eye.

“Chris, you’re here at 2 AM,” you pointed out. “When it’s not likely anyone would see you… Yeah, I know I’m not good enough to be…”

His fingertips pressed to your lips to keep you from finishing that sentence.

“Stop,” he said. “That’s _not_ true.”

“It is,” you told him. “No one ever knew. No one ever saw anything…”

“I know it must have seemed like that,” Chris told you soberly, “but it wasn’t because I was ashamed of _you_ … You’ve seen what my life is like. The one time I even tried to have a relationship in the open…”

You nodded.

“It’s bad enough how they go after me,” he explained. “I don’t want to put anyone else through that.”

Again, you nodded. His gaze searched yours, the hope in his expression yielding to something sadder. _Guilt._

“You don’t believe me,” he said flatly.

Why deny it?

When you went to rise from your couch, this time he didn’t stop you.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you blew out an exhale.

“I think you’re just lonely,” you said finally. “I understand your situation. You can’t just trust anyone considering who you are but… I can’t just be at your beck and call, to keep you from being alone.”

“You were never just that to me,” he said slowly.

“But I wasn’t anything more,” you pointed out, daring him to deny it.

Running a hand over his beard, he seemed to consider what to say next.

“Is there something else?”

“What?” You hadn’t expected the question.

“Is there _someone_ else?” Chris asked you quietly.

“No,” you said before you could even think about it. “Would it make a difference if there were?”

The look _that_ earned you. _That was it._ Chris was here because he thought you’d moved on. He thought you found someone else.

Why would he think that?

It didn’t matter.

“Really?” you asked him tearfully. “Are you one of those? I’m not good enough to be in a real relationship with you –”

Chris tried to cut you off with your own name.

“But you don’t want me with anyone else?” Jealousy was ugly. It made people act in terrible ways and you didn’t want any part of that.

“Chris, I think you should leave now,” you told him, feeling the knife twist in your chest even as you said it.

“No, it’s not like that,” he tried weakly.

“It’s not?”

Chris was off the couch, moving closer to you. He frowned when you stepped back.

“Chris, please,” you pleaded with him. Your stomach was starting to protest, and you were afraid if you didn’t get him out of your apartment, you’d end doing something stupid like sleeping with him to make _him_ feel better.

Or agreeing that you’d continue things as they were before.

Before Chris could reach you, you ran like hell for the bathroom. You made it to the toilet just in time, the contents of your stomach coming up in a fury. Weak and sick, you dropped to your knees as you flushed, hoping that he’d just let himself out.

The sound of your sink running behind you let you know he was still there. Dropping to his knees behind you, Chris gently got you turned to face him. He began cleaning off your face. You were too weak to stop him.

He helped you brush your teeth, remove the rest of the makeup. You made it to your bedroom, dropping heavily on the end of the bed. Chris knew his way around your apartment. He fished a t-shirt, one of his, and a pair of sleep shorts out of your drawers and clumsily helped you change out of your dress.

When he tucked you up in your bed, you expected him to leave you then. You watched, trying not to cry because you knew you wouldn’t see him again.

When he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his sweater, it stopped you. “Chris?”

He stood and kicked off his shoes, pulled off his jeans. Just in his boxers, he climbed into bed next to you. Reaching across you, he turned out the lamp on your bedside table and then stretched out on his back, carefully pulling you against him.

You weren’t proud of it, but you made yourself comfortable on his chest as you usually did after a round of sex with him. Miserable as you felt, you appreciated the small comfort. The chance to enjoy it one last time.

“Try to get some sleep,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Chris?” you asked weakly.

“Shhh. Just sleep.”

And despite everything, it wasn’t long before you did just that.

***

Chris reached for the remote of your TV, surfing through channels with the volume low so he wouldn’t wake you.

He was the dumbest son of a bitch alive. He truly was.

You’d called him on every bit of his bullshit. Not like other women would. Oh, no. Instead of a loud argument filled with angsty accusations and a manicured finger in his face, you’d taken him to task in that quiet way of yours.

It made it ten fucking times worse.

It had already made his heart ache to see you there, dressed up in a way he’d never seen. Your hair was a riot of loose curls, your makeup enhancing the beauty you had naturally. The dress you wore?

Oh, that dress had him wishing things had gone in a completely different way tonight.

When he’d asked if you were seeing someone else? You’d answered _way_ too fast. He’d been right. He was just curious as to why the asshole wasn’t here with you tonight.

And he could’ve been.

Chris had completely fucked everything up. He hadn’t realized until tonight that you saw yourself as someone less than him. How could you see yourself as some expendable girl for him to fuck when he was bored? It killed him.

It wasn’t how he felt about you.

You were friends. You had fun together. You had a wonderful, warm personality to go with all that beauty. You made him feel calm, accepted. Chris didn’t feel like his celebrity mattered to you.

So when you told him that you felt you weren’t good enough to be in a real relationship with him? You said in so many words that you couldn’t matter to him?

Slapping him across the face would have been a lesser shock.

The look on your face? _The hurt._ _He’d_ done that. He’d made you feel that way.

Why the hell wouldn’t you have thought that? He _did_ show up at your apartment at 2 in the morning. Why wouldn’t you have thought he just wanted sex? And of course, he _did_. 

But the real reason he was there at 2 AM?

Chris wanted _more_. Maybe it was the jealousy. Maybe he couldn’t handle the thought of letting you go now that he’d seen you again.

He’d missed your face, your voice. The way you felt in his arms…

Chris wanted your heart.

Blowing out an exhale, Chris felt the anxiety that had gripped him since he spotted your hoodie in his kitchen slip away. His mind made up.

Chris wasn’t about to lose you to the guy in the picture. He’d fight for you and then he’d convince you that you were wrong about _him_.

He just didn’t know how yet…


	3. Chapter 3

Your phone ringing from your purse in the living room woke you up the next morning. Your feet engaged before your brain did, hitting the floor and carrying you to your couch. You scrambled to fish your almost dead phone out of the bag you took to the club last night.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sabrina,” your friend said. “You get the email?”

“What email?”

“They’re pausing production,” she told you, confirming what you all knew was coming with the spread of the virus. “Effective immediately.”

“Shit,” you muttered, not expecting it so fast. “Well, guess we’ll need to figure out what to do from here.”

You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent and other bills. So were a lot of other people. Scary times.

“Do you have any of your stuff on set?” Sabrina asked as your mind started to catch up.

You went dancing with her last night. You took a cab home.

_Chris was here._

_Right?_

“You there?”

_Shit._

“Yeah.” What had she asked? “Oh, yeah… My bag is there. Guess I’ll run over and grab it in a little while.”

“They said the sooner the better. I don’t think they mean to be there on Monday.”

“Okay,” you told her. “Thank you… You get lucky with the bartender last night?”

“Wouldn’t call it that,” Sabrina told you. “He was a nice guy but bad in bed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ _You_ just went home,” she said a teasing tone.

“Well, yeah, I took a cab,” you said. Then Chris showed up. _Is he still here?_ “I threw up and went to bed.”

Sabrina laughed. “Told you to slow up on that Jack… Well, feel better. Keep in touch.”

“You too.”

You hung up. Your phone was on 2%.

You dashed into your bedroom. Chris was not there, and you didn’t hear him anywhere else in your apartment. Just to make sure, you checked the bathroom, your spare bedroom.

No evidence he’d been there at all.

Maybe you’d hallucinated it all.

Your head hurt and your mouth was dry. You trudged back into your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed and plugging your phone up to its charger.

Then you checked your text messages.

Chris: Sorry, I had to leave early. I had a meeting with Mark. Hope you’re feeling better this morning.

Shit, he _had_ been there.

Morning? Hah! It was just after 1 PM.

Chris: I got you one of those avocado breakfast sandwiches you like from up the street. Enjoy. I’ll catch up with you later.

Leaving your phone on the bedside table, you headed for your kitchen. When you opened the fridge, sure enough, he’d left you a bag with your favorite breakfast there. And next to it? An iced latte.

You sighed happily, pulling them out. You were hungry even if you were slightly hungover.

Huh. Chris had never gotten _you_ breakfast before. You didn’t know he even paid attention to what you got for yourself when you went out to get him food.

As you warmed up the sandwich and stole sips of your coffee, you remembered talking to him last night. You remembered calling him on showing up at 2 AM. Hell, you’d even told him that you’d ended things for your part, admitting you just weren’t a casual sex type. You’d asked him to leave.

He hadn’t though. As you carried your breakfast to the couch and turned on the news, you stopped to consider that he’d cleaned you up after you got sick and put you in bed, getting in with you.

You were so confused as to why he’d even shown up at all. Maybe all his “benefit friends” had split like you had. Maybe, as you suspected, he was just lonely.

_I want another chance with you._

That was the last thing you needed to give that dramatic, blue-eyed devil. Another chance.

_Wait._

Chris left your apartment and came back to bring you breakfast. How did he manage that? You’d never given him a key to your apartment. You kept the spare key on the corkboard on the side of your refrigerator. But you never mentioned that to him.

When you finished your breakfast and made your way back into the kitchen, the first thing you did was verify that the key was still there.

It was gone.

Your sigh was a loud hiss in the quiet of your kitchen. You had to think about this. You needed to decide how to handle this. You couldn’t just let Chris waltz back into your life and your bed because he wanted to for whatever reason. You’d cut him off before he could upend your life weeks ago. You couldn’t let him come back now and finish you off.

Your heart burned in your chest and it took your breath.

_God, you wanted to._ You knew like most guys he’d say whatever he thought would get him what he wanted. You _knew_ that.

You’d asked him to leave last night. Not only had he stayed, but he’d climbed in bed with you. There was no sex involved but you knew he was working up to it.

Now the breakfast, the texts. He’d taken your spare key.

How were you going to stop this?

Did you want to?

You put yourself together and ordered an Uber to take you over to base camp so you could get your stuff before they closed down the set temporarily. Your mind spun with everything going on. You needed to figure out how to cover rent and student loans with your current job paused. Your livelihood honestly should be your first priority.

You shouldn’t be worried about Chris and what you were going to do about him.

Easier said than done.

***

Chris circled back through the city after his meeting, wanting to check on you since you’d been sick last night. And he knew he hadn’t made that better showing up as he did. When and how he did. He wasn’t proud of that. He could do better.

He thought about just letting himself in but stopped. If he wanted to get this right, he needed to remember you didn’t work for him. As you said, you weren’t at his beck and call. You owed him nothing.

But he knocked three times and there was no answer.

Were you okay? You hadn’t answered his texts. Justifying it with his concern for your welfare, there was also the damned virus to worry about, he did finally let himself in.

You weren’t there.

You’d eaten the breakfast he got for you. The remnants of that were in your garbage. Okay, that was good.

But you didn’t message him. You weren’t at work. The film you were working on had halted production for now. Most productions had suspended for the time being.

Were you with _him_?

Chris didn’t like that idea at all. Part of him wanted to stick around here in your apartment until you got back. He wanted to see if you came back with the guy from the picture.

_Then what would you do, asshole? Have a confrontation?_

That you’d found someone else? It was his own fault. All those times he thought about you since he saw you last? That weekend? He could have sent a text. Called. He could have reached out. Knowing what he did now about how you viewed things between you, he was kicking himself for not doing that.

For all you knew, he was seeing someone else too.

Okay, he couldn’t stay there. Chris tucked your key back into his pocket and headed out. By the time he got back to his house, he’d decided on a course of action. He stopped and greeted Dodger, giving him some attention before getting ready to send his text to you.

Chris tried not to think about you and the other guy right now. Maybe you weren’t with him. Maybe you were out with a friend or shopping for things you’d need in case there was a lockdown.

Blowing out an exhale, he opened your text conversation. It was pretty simple. He just had to send one question.

Then he just waited.

***

Chris: Please let me know you’re okay?

You were in the back of the Uber with your bag, headed for your apartment. You shook your head as you read the message for the third time.

Why was he doing this? Chris could have anyone he wanted. More than one at a time. He’d proven that.

So why was he back to _you_?

Blowing out an exhale, you decided to just bite the bullet and answer. You didn’t believe for a minute that he wanted anything more than what little you’d had before.

You: I’m okay. Just tired. Thank you for breakfast.

He answered almost right away.

Chris: You’re welcome. What are you doing later?

_I shouldn’t see you._

You thought about saying you needed to be scouting for other jobs right now. But you didn’t want him to think you were asking for help. You could have lied and said you were going out with Sabrina, but he knew her. It wouldn’t take much to catch you in that lie.

_The truth it is._

You: Was just going to stay in and take it easy after last night.

_Perfect._ He knew you’d been sick. You were so grateful he’d gotten to witness _that_ last night.

He didn’t answer before you got out of the Uber at the market. And from the market, you planned to walk home. You paid the driver and trotted in get a few items. You were picking out produce when you heard the chime.

Chris: You could take it easy here. I could make us dinner since they are closing everything down.

That got your attention. Chris? Cook?

Right.

You finished shopping and paid for your items, answering him while you were waiting in line for checkout.

You: I appreciate the offer. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.

Chris: Why? You have other plans?

_Not your business if I did._

Did he really believe you were seeing someone else? Where was that coming from?

You: No, Chris. I don’t have other plans.

_I just don’t think seeing you again is a good idea._

You were walking home, stopping in the local bookstore for a couple of newspapers. You were job hunting now. You’d just walked out when he finally answered you.

Chris: I understand.

You knew it was best to leave it that way. It really was. No good could come from running back into his arms and being his plaything until he changed his mind again.

But why did it feel like the wrong call? Why did your heart feel like a heavy stone in your chest?

You kept your phone in your hand as you walked along, stopping in another couple of stores on the way. He didn’t send any more messages and you tried to bolster yourself. Chris wasn’t good for you. You needed someone who wanted you for the right reasons. Someone you _were_ good enough for.

When you finally reached your apartment, your arms ached from the bags you carried. You let yourself in and let them heavily drop to the floor.

That’s when you noticed that your entire apartment smelled like an Italian restaurant.

Chris smiled at you from the steamy warmth of your kitchen. Walking up to brush a kiss to your cheek before bending down to your bags and grabbing the ones that held the few groceries you picked up.

All you could do was stand there and stare at him.

Chris was one of those that didn’t clean up after himself as he cooked. It looked like you’d been testing scud missiles in your kitchen, complete with a sauce splatter on the tiles at your stove. Boxes, wrappings, the remnants of chopped up tomatoes, onions, and mushrooms on three different cutting boards.

Better than anything was him standing there with your apron tied loosely around himself. Pink and white ruffles flowing around the chest that would maybe shield his chest from one nipple to the other. That’ was _it_.

It was all you could do not to laugh and the bastard knew it.

“Chris?”

“Yes?” he shot back, flashing you that smile. That irritatingly beautiful smile…

You blew out an exhale. “Why?”

“Why am I making you dinner?” he asked as he dropped the bag on your counter and began unpacking it, adding to the mess.

“For starters.”

“I’ve never cooked for you before,” he said simply, getting back to whatever he had cooking. It did smell wonderful.

“How did you get in here?” you asked as you walked into the kitchen to stand behind him. You knew the answer. You wanted to hear him say it.

“Spare key,” he said nonchalantly.

You didn’t immediately realize that you’d crossed your arms across your chest and pouted. Chris mimicked you before sauntering in your direction, his hands cupping your elbows before slowly sliding up your arms to your shoulders.

Those bright blue eyes were on you and damned if you didn’t feel weak in the knees. _Gorgeous bastard._

“Why are you doing this?” you had to ask. “Why?”

Chris brushed a kiss to your forehead.

“I want to do it right this time,” he told you, his tone sounding sincere. “I want to treat you the way I should have before.”

Oh, you wanted to believe that. But come on…

“I don’t get a say in this?”

“You do,” he explained but it felt a little untrue.

“Why now?” you had to ask. “What changed?”

Chris threw you an ironic little smile and turned back the steaming pot on the stove. The box of vermicelli next to the stove let you know he was making spaghetti which you did love. It was one of your favorites.

“I did,” he finally said, not turning to face you. “I changed.”

“But Chris—”

“Hey,” he turned back to you in that ridiculously small apron. “Give me a chance, okay? All I’m asking.”

“Chris, I—”

Before you could blink, he’d hauled you against him and then pushed you against the free wall in your kitchen, caging you in with his arms while his lips led a scorching campaign over yours until you couldn’t breathe or even think straight.

Your hands started out against the muscular wall of his chest like you’d meant to push him away. Within seconds, your fists were full of handfuls of the black sweater he wore today and your apron. His lips blazed a path over your jaw, to the sensitive hollow just beneath your ear.

You underestimated him. It took him maybe ten seconds to rev your body up like a race car, purring and ready to go. Chris, in his defense, kept his hips back at a respectable distance. As much as he could and pin you to the wall. No, it was _you_ who was grinding yourself against him, the hot ridge of his erection straining against the front of his jeans.

You caught yourself just as you thought about running a hand down to—

_What were you doing?_

Chris’s smile was purely devilish when he allowed you to back away.

_Okay, asshole. Yeah, you’re gorgeous and you know it. I want you to fuck me into this kitchen floor. Right. Fucking. Now._

But lust and love were two very different things. You knew the difference. Did he?

“That kind of reminded me of the weekend at my house,” he began, those long fingers grabbling the neck of a bottle of wine. A cabernet franc. Another favorite of yours. He picked away at the wrapper at the bottle opening before pulling your corkscrew out of the door to open it up for you.

Within minutes, you were sitting across from him at your modest table over spaghetti, salad, and wine. He brought the candles with him.

Okay, things could have been worse but…

Those blue eyes moved over you as you ate. “You like it?”

You had to smile on that note. You could tell the answer to that was important to him. And the man _had_ made dinner for you. How many times had he done that in his life you wondered?

“It’s wonderful,” you told him and meant it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he told you. “Not as good as Ma’s but I’ll let you be the judge of that one. At some point, you’ll meet her.”

_His mother?_ Oh, he was serious at whatever game he was playing.

Chris could just be saying that too.

“Your production got shut down?”

You nodded. “I went to base camp to get my stuff earlier… Now I’ve got to try and find a job to ride this out.”

Chris nodded, keeping his gaze on you. “I was thinking about that.”

“I didn’t tell you because I’m looking for help,” you wanted him to know. “I’ll be okay.”

He cocked that eyebrow at you before his face split into a wide grin. “You could come ride it out at my place.”

“Chris, I –”

“For Dodger,” he said quickly. “That way we could look after him without me dragging Scott out to do it often.”

You liked Scott.

“How is he?”

Chris nodded. “He’s good.”

A couple of quiet moments.

“So what do you think?”

“About?” you played dumb.

“Come stay with me through this virus,” he implored you. That soft smile. Those baby blue eyes…

That had you stopping, putting your utensils down.

“Chris, considering you were chomping at the bit to get rid of me the one weekend I stayed at your house,” you said slowly. “How is that going to work?”

His face darkened. You had him there and he knew it. Still, his gaze on you never wavered.

“Yeah, okay,” he admitted, “I was worried about it because I usually don’t bring people I date casually home with me.”

“If you can even call it that.”

His brows lowered, his look said, “Come on.”

“I didn’t need to say anything as it was, did I?” Chris worked on his meal, seeming lost in his thoughts for a moment. “You went right up and got in the shower. That was a _wonderful_ shower by the way.”

Oh, you remembered.

“And then you just called an Uber and left,” he recounted for you.

You shrugged a shoulder.

“What were you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you asked. “I’d decided to enjoy that weekend and then, that was it.”

Chris studied you then. “You didn’t say anything to me.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had to,” you shot back. “It wasn’t a relationship and I wasn’t the only person you were seeing.”

“You were at that time,” he said slowly. “You are now.”

“Ah,” you told him, dropping your gaze and eating. You needed to find a way to end this evening before it got worse.

You didn’t expect his hand to slide across the table to yours. “Come on. Give me a chance… Get to know me.”

“I feel like I _do_ know you, Chris,” you said calmly.

“You really don’t,” he explained. “That more my fault than yours… Just please.”

He wasn’t releasing your hand. Chris knew that in touching you he was messing with your head.

“And you think I should do this by staying at your house until this virus is over?”

Chris nodded, no shadow of hesitation in his eyes.

“Chris, they said this thing could go on for weeks,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, it could.”

You had to laugh at that. “We could fucking hate each other by the end of that.”

“That’s always a possibility,” Chris told you. “There’s just as much chance that we’ll be happy too… What do you say?”

“I’d still like to look for a job I can do from isolation,” you told him.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to take care of me, Chris,” you were honest. “I’ll be okay. I’ll manage.”

“Is that a yes?”

Were you even capable of saying no to him?

“Do you just want a fuck buddy for isolation?” you tried to make it sound like a joke but missed it by a country mile.

“Well, yeah, I’m not dead,” he admitted. laughing. “But I promise you that’s not my only reason.”

***

You dozed on the couch during _The Princess Bride_ after that, still tired from the night before, and woke up around 4 AM tucked up in your bed. And sweating.

Chris was pretty much wrapped around you from behind. One heavy arm draped over you, his hand filled with your breast. You had to laugh as you worked at pulling free of his octopus grip and making your way to the bathroom, then the kitchen for a glass of water.

By the time you came back, he was stretched out on his back, hands tucked behind his head. Those eyes glittered at you from the light filtering through your windows.

“You okay?” his voice was scratchy from sleep.

You nodded.

One of his hands lowered, dropping over your thigh when you stretched out next to him.

“Why so tense?”

“Why am I tense?” you asked him. “I just… Chris…”

Chris rolled over you, effectively ending whatever you thought you were about to say. Your body clenched in want. Chris was amazing in bed. _So sue me._

You rolled your hips up against him, feeling the ready length of his cock from under the covers. His moan was a deep rumble in his check. Just as quickly, he shook his head, his hands moving up to capture your wrists.

“What do you want?” you asked in an unsteady voice.

His teeth worried the full curve of that lower lip before he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was soft and filthy.

“Want to make you feel good,” he whispered.

The air was a little chilly when he lifted himself and wrenched the bedding between you away. His hands pushed up the hem of your sleep shirt until it was a roll beneath your chin, your breasts on display with nipples aching for his attention.

When he licked his lips, your thighs tightened around his hips and he groaned again, all around the hard peak he’d just pulled into his mouth. His tongue swirled all around the tight center of your breast leaving you nothing to do but wrap around him, hang on. Your fingers sifted through the silky strands of his hair and gripped.

“Do that again,” he muttered, moving his mouth to capture your other nipple.

Chris didn’t let you relax, didn’t let you breathe. His was a constant torment. By the time he was done with your breasts, your back arched and your toes curled. When he slid a hand into your panties, you were so on edge you almost came from that simple motion, your thighs trying to clamp around his invading fingers.

“Damn,” he said in your ear as that hand clutched in your small blue panties, twisting and pulling until the ripped off you.

You were ridiculously wet. Those think fingers slid around your folds so easily, teasing your swollen clit and your aching opening at turns until you thought you’d just pass out.

“Chris…” You stopped yourself before you could beg him to fuck you. You were going to try not to say that. You wanted to see what he would do.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, chaining wet little kisses over your ribs and tummy. He wasn’t gentle when he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, on eye level with your most intimate flesh before he just dove in.

Chris has gone down on you a few times before. It was never anything like _that_.

His grip on your thighs was firm bordering on uncomfortable from the beginning. It didn’t take you long to figure out why. Chris had never unleashed his full potential in this area on you before. To you, it was like a fevered dream. His lips and tongue, on your clit, around your opening, had you helpless beneath him for long minutes.

You didn’t want to wake your neighbors so you grabbed another pillow, squealing into it as Chris made you dance on his tongue, had you riding his fingers until you couldn’t breathe. Until all you could do was wait for the wave of one powerful orgasm to wash over you, shake you to your core.

Chris didn’t stop through it. He kept going, teasing along the front of your walls until he found your spot with the pads of his fingers. Then he played you like violin. You came twice like that, his fingers rubbing you there in a way that shattered your mind and your body. His mouth was hot all around your clit, his tongue driving you to madness in quick, untamed patterns.

By the time he brought you off the fourth time, your eyes were swimming in tears. Good ones. Even though your body was clenching, seeking the fullness that was him, Chris stopped. Rising up to press lips stained in your scent and taste to your mouth.

Chris kissed you deeply, gave you a good taste. The tartness of your own arousal made your craving a little worse.

“You gonna fuck me?” You were panting beneath him.

Chris grinned at you, shook his head.

“No, you’re going back to sleep,” he whispered.

_Wait._ You couldn’t have heard that right.

“Sleep?”

Chris nodded, stretching out next to you and pulling you up onto his chest. You could see the ridge of him all hard under his boxers, but he just got comfortable.

“How many times did I have a long day on set and you just gave me a blow job?” he reminded you. “We went to sleep after that. _You_ couldn’t have gotten much out of it.”

Which told you he’d been _aware_ of being a selfish asshole. He was just trying to remedy that now.

“Just wanted to do that for you,” he said quietly in the darkness.

His heart was strong, steady in your ear. His hands sifted through your hair and roamed over your body.”

The low grumble of your neighbors’ voices on the other side of the wall made you sigh in guilt.

“There’s another good reason to stay at my place,” Chris whispered. “No neighbors to complain about the screaming.”

You grinned up at him on that note. “Is there going to be screaming?”

You were bounced a little on his chest as he laughed at that.

“Screaming,” he told you. “We’ll have a lot of free time on our hands. Lots of stuff we can try, right?”

_Fucking beautiful asshole_. There you were wrapped up in his arms after he’d given you four orgasms and now he was painting your mind in porno, knowing he’d left you just a little bit hungry.

It was a calculated strike.

“I haven’t agreed to that yet,” you reminded him.

“You will,” Chris assured you. “I can be fucking persuasive when I need to be.”

That’s exactly what you were afraid of.


	4. Chapter 4

Sabrina: Boston? WTF are you doing in Boston?

You: It’s a long story. I’ll try to call you later.

Sabrina: Wait. Are you with Chris?

Even though Chris, Scott, and Zach, Scott’s boyfriend, had kept up a running commentary since you arrived at Logan, you could feel Chris’s attention on you as you texted Sabrina. You angled yourself in the corner of the rear bench in the SUV, pretty sure he was trying to see who you were messaging.

Sabrina: Well?

You blew out a sigh, drawing Scott’s attention too now.

_Fuck._

You: Yes.

Sabrina: Oh, why gurl? He couldn’t find anyone else to fuck for the quarantine?

See? Even Sabrina knew how this was going to go. How dumb could you be? Chris hadn’t magically changed overnight. When the quarantine was over, things would go back to the way they were. He’d be a top Hollywood actor who could have what and who he wanted at any time.

And you were probably going to be homeless depending on how long the entire pandemic lasted.

Scott grinned at you from over the back of his second-row seat. “You’re quiet. Everything okay?”

You nodded, smiled. “Everything is fine.”

“Other boyfriend pissed that you left him for Boston?” he teased. Zach elbowed him playfully, but Scott ignored him.

“Oh, he totally is,” you told Scott with a wink, playing along.

The way Chris’s jaw locked as he kept a hand on Dodger and suddenly found something outside the window on his side was telling.

You: I’ll talk to you later.

Sabrina: You better.

The SUV dropped Scott and Zach off first at their mother’s house. You thought Chris meant to climb out with them for a minute, but he simply told them he’d see them later. 

Slinging his arm across the back of your seat, you felt Chris’s fingers in your hair, twirling the ends. You acted like you didn’t notice as you took in the upscale neighborhood you were being slowly driven through.

“Ever been to Boston?” his deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Honestly, no,” you admitted. “I’ve been to Maine on vacation a few times. Bar Harbor. Camden.”

“It’s a great place,” he told you.

“Maybe I’ll get a chance to see some of it while I’m here,” you mused.

Chris tugged sharply on your hair to get your attention.

“We’ll see how it goes.” He smirked at you as the SUV pulled up in the driveaway of a really nice home. “We’re here.”

It was a beautiful place. Of course it was. Dodger darted happily out of the SUV the minute the side door slid open and Chris got out ahead of you, helping you down though you really didn’t need it. The driver started getting your bags out of the back while you followed Chris into house.

It was just as gorgeous on the inside, roomy. Chris gave you a quick tour before heading back down to tip the driver and thank him for his help. Then he unceremoniously grabbed your bags and headed upstairs.

You followed him, assuming he was going to show you where you were going to sleep. You scoffed when he carried everything into his own bedroom and placed them carefully down on the side of the bed you usually preferred.

“Really?” You stood in the doorway shaking your head at him.

Chris grinned at you, not even apologetically.

“You’re going to end up here,” he told you matter-of-factly. “Just saving you time in moving all your stuff around.”

“I’d like to remind you that I didn’t agree to that,” you told him trying to sound playful. “Remember?”

Chris sauntered over to you in the doorway, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. Those blue eyes gazed down into yours and they were full of mischief.

“Persuasive,” was all he said. “Remember?”

Shrugging out of his hold, you got around him to get your bags and came back out to claim the guest room he’d shown you two doors down. Chris watched you, holding that shit-eating grin, but you could feel a little underlying frustration from him too.

“I’m going to freshen up and check my email,” you said finally. “I’ll catch up with you in a little while.”

Chris nodded, watching as you closed yourself in the guest room.

***

A little while ended up being a long while. You showered off the long flight and drive. You checked emails, applied for a couple of jobs you could handle online, and ended up taking a nap.

The queen-size bed was amazingly comfortable, and you were warm. There was a warm weight behind you. A glance over your shoulder showed you that it was Dodger. He’d just jumped up on the bed with you and shared your nap. You smiled as you rubbed his head as he blinked up at you, his tail starting to wag.

But you’d closed the door…

Oh, no. The door to the room you’d chosen for yourself was wide open. Chris had just let him in there. Or he’d been in here too.

Blowing out an exhale, you checked your phone. It was after six in the evening and you were hungry. You’d pulled on a big comfy hoodie, leggings, big fuzzy socks. It all matched and was cozy and you didn’t feel inclined to change. Not for Chris. You did duck into the bathroom to pull your hair back into a messy bun. When Dodger saw you heading out of the room, he bounded off the bed after you.

You found Chris at his kitchen counter, looking over local menus.

“Not in the mood to cook tonight, huh?” you said as you came up behind him.

“You volunteering?” Chris had on a sweatshirt and jeans, just effortlessly handsome as he smirked at you. “I thought with the travel, we could see who would deliver.”

Nodding, you had to agree there.

Chris ordered sub sandwiches and arranged to have them delivered before moving to his living room where he turned on the enormous TV had there. Making his way over to the bar next to it, he began pulling out bottles. He’d already set out ice and a bottle of tonic water.

“We could find something to watch,” he said working at making what you suspected was a vodka and tonic, your favorite drink. “I’ve got a PS4, some board games.”

When he walked toward you with the drink, you saw he’d even cut up a lemon. You preferred a lemon slice to lime. When had he had time to pay attention to all these little things?

“Or we can just start christening each room in the house,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead while you shook your head.

Taking a sip from your drink, it was strong, you stepped back and shook your head. “Nice try.”

Chris shrugged heading back to the bar. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

You watched him mixing whiskey, contemplated what to do next. It occurred to you that this was only the first day of God-only-knew how long you’d be here. What the hell had you been thinking? You could be here for weeks. Chris was nice now but how long would that last?

“Okay, so pick what we’re going to do,” he bid you, finished with his drink.

Oh, you were terrible at decisions.

“This isn’t how it’s going to be the whole time, is it?” you wanted to know.

“You’re the guest,” he pointed out.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

“It’s on the table.” Chris gave you _that look_ with those eyebrows.

Judging from the way his gaze was roaming over you, it apparently was.

_Fuck._ Not going there.

“Where are your board games?” you asked.

***

It had been years since Chris had played Rock’em Sock’em Robots. When you picked out the game, you said you’d never heard of it before.

You sure as shit didn’t play like you’d never seen the damn game before. Chris had deliberately made you play using the blue robot because Scott had always used the red robot and he’d only ever won against Scott once. He knew his little bastard of a brother had a way of cheating. But in the off chance that there was any advantage to the red robot, Chris claimed it.

The game was on the coffee table and you both sat on the floor playing. Chris really had to focus because you were fucking serious about it. You had a white-knuckle grip on the controllers on your side and so far, you were kicking his ass. You landed another left, sending the head of his blue robot shooting up.

Chris threw up his hands, laughing. “Enough! Jesus! You lied to me. You’ve played this before.”

You laughed and Chris loved the sound.

“I have not,” you told him. “First time playing.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back you, his gaze moving over you.

_Were you wearing a bra?_

_Stop._

Chris smirked at you, loving the excitement in your eyes. Sure, you’d each had three drinks on top of the huge subs that had been delivered for dinner, but he wasn’t wasted. You were a little tipsy. He wasn’t planning on encouraging you to have more.

He was just enjoying spending time with you. And that you didn’t have your phone, weren’t texting what’s-his-name? Bonus.

“Want a rematch?” you offered.

“Would it do me any good?” he wanted to know.

You winked at him. “Maybe?”

_Oh, if only that little wink was in reference to something else…_

“Want to switch colors?” you offered him, stretching your back.

“Fine,” Chris spun the game around, giving himself the blue robot. “You ready?”

You grinned at him and it was just so damned cute. You’d wadded your hair into a bun in the back that was wobbling precariously around your head as you moved. As you gripped the controllers on the game, he did the same and the game started. You played with your whole body, so Chris decided to put more into his own play.

It did him _no_ good. You managed to beat him soundly. _Again_.

“How are you doing that?” he wondered out loud. “I think I beat Scott once in my entire life. I apparently just suck at this.”

You had maybe a swallow of vodka left in the glass next to your sub wrappers. You tossed it back before regarding him with a smirk.

“You really want to know?” you asked him.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t.” Chris replied.

Yeah, he was interested in the answer to that. It would be satisfying to beat Scott one more time.

Chris was just as interested in the “how” you planned to pass on that information.

His heart sped up when you put the glass down and came around to his side of the table. At first, you pressed up behind him. The soft press of your breasts against his back immediately got his attention. And gave away the fact that you were _not_ wearing a bra.

The softness of your hands on his as you moved them to the controllers? He just let himself enjoy it.

“No,” you said after a moment. “Trade places.”

Oh, he could do that. 

Chris moved back. A little. You tried to squeeze between him and the edge of the coffee table to reach the controllers on his side.

He wasn’t proud of himself, but he loved your ass. It was round, beautiful. It had been so long since…

_Stop._ Trying to learn more about _her_ , right?

Chris had a choice: move back a little further or…

He was surprised you didn’t fight him when he grabbed your hips, pulling you onto his lap. You allowed it. But he heard your breath hitch when he pulled you back into him.

And you fit like you belonged there. Why didn’t he notice that before?

You put your hands on the controllers for the blue robot.

“Put your hands over mine,” you directed him.

Chris did as you wanted, holding on loosely as you began to work the blue robot against the immobile red one. You showed him that if he tilted the controllers a certain way at the same time you deployed the punch, you could score a hit.

“Want to see that again?” you asked him.

You shifted on his lap and he was getting harder by the minute. Chris swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You took him through it again and it was harder than it should have been to focus. He would have given anything to learn the Rock’em Sock’em Robot secret that he hadn’t managed to learn the whole of his life so far. He dearly wanted to beat Scott one more time and shut him up about it. It was a sibling thing.

But it was hard because he had this beautiful curvy girl in his lap. Your weight was soft fire against him, and you smelled like strawberries.

“Your turn,” you said after the second demonstration.

Chris was proud that he was able to mimic your movements, strike the red robot’s jaw and send the head up.

“See? You can do it,” you told him over your shoulder.

“Guess so,” Chris muttered, but his mind was on anything but the game. One hand plucked at your hair, sending the length of it falling down around your shoulders. It was still damp from your shower and he pressed his face into it, inhaled the scent of that strawberry shampoo.

The scent of _you_.

Chris wrapped around you then, felt you stiffen in his hold.

“What are you doing?” you asked warily.

Yeah, he was hard beneath you. Little chance you were missing that. But he just held you there, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Just this,” he whispered close to your ear.

You chuckled, a rich warm sound. “This your attempt to distract me, Chris? You think you can beat me now?”

“Yep,” he tried to sound playful.

_No._

You blew out an exhale, relaxing back against him. “You know, I think I should go to bed. I drank too much… Surprise.”

“You’re an adorable drunk,” Chris spoke next to your ear. “We could watch something. Anything you want to binge?”

His arms were wrapped around your chest and you hooked your hands over them, your touch warm. “Hmm, maybe. Maybe just a movie for now? I haven’t decided if I want to stay here.”

That had Chris laughing, squeezing you a little tighter. “Too late for that. You’re stuck here now.”

You turned your head towards him, your lips were so close. “No, I’m really not.”

“No non-essential travel, remember?” he whispered. “Leaving me would be non-essential.”

“Would it be?” you whispered back.

“You could allow me to convince you to stay,” he told you. He meant it.

Carefully, you pulled out of his grasp, moving to stretch out on the carpet next to him. It was almost worse because now your curvy form was all stretched out for him…

_Focus._

“Okay, I’ve been drinking,” you began, lying on your back and pulling your knees up. “You’ve been drinking. That’s pretty much the tale of our relationship as you call it.”

Chris didn’t like the way you did air quotes when you said relationship.

“But be honest with me because you’re nothing if not an honest drunk,” you said. “Why are you doing this, Chris?”

Shifting to make himself a little more comfortable, he settled at your side. “I told you. I want another chance.”

You studied him. He knew you were looking for any sign he was playing you. “But we—”

“Before you say we didn’t have a relationship,” he cut you off doing air quotes too, “you need to understand that I do think of you as a friend, someone I care about. Someone I really enjoy spending time with. Shouldn’t that be at the heart of any _real_ relationship.”

“Maybe,” you smirked at him. “You fuck all your friends?”

Chris blew out an exhale. He needed a different way to frame the conversation.

“I know what it’s like to be your friend,” he said quietly, holding your gaze. “I know what it’s like to be inside you.”

He _loved_ the way your lips parted when he said that.

“Now I want to know more about _you_ ,” he pointed out. “That’s not so hard to understand, is it?”

That got a reaction. You pulled yourself into a sitting position. Dodger climbed off his rug on the floor and made his way over to you, trying to give you kisses. That you stopped to hug Dodger, how affectionate you were with him was something you never failed to do.

“That we were just friends-with-benefits,” you said slowly, “wasn’t the only problem I had.”

Chris’s heart sank a little at that. He knew what you were going to say. Reaching out slowly, he slid his hand up your shin, a slow easy movement. He was hoping if he could touch you somehow, he could pull you out of your head just a little.

“I don’t think I can be in a relationship where things aren’t exclusive,” you said slowly, your gaze on his hand before rising to meet his. “You see other people.”

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” he said simply.

“Not right now.”

Chris had earned this one.

“One reason I said that was because at the time, I wasn’t really looking for a relationship,” he explained. It was the truth. “But during that time, I spent with you, everyone else kind of fell away. Then the one person who caught my eye, well, you just vanished.”

You’d wrapped your arms around your knees, made yourself small. You did that a lot when you were talking seriously. He didn’t like it. It made him feel like you were afraid of him.

His hand slid around to your calf, felt the tension in your body. He kept his touch easy.

“I didn’t hear from you either,” you countered.

“But I did reach out to you,” he pointed out. “Do I get credit for that?”

“That depends,” you went on.

“On what?” Now he was getting somewhere.

“Why did you reach out?” you asked. “Because you missed spending time with me? Or because you think I’m with someone else?”

_Fuck._ Now what did he say? Would he have sent that text if he hadn’t found that picture of you in another man’s lap on Instagram?

“About that,” he replied.

“Am I wrong?” you asked him.

“ _Are_ you seeing someone?” Chris asked you.

Then he cringed on the inside. It wasn’t the best approach. He just made your point. And sure, jealousy had a lot to fucking do with the reason he got back in touch with you. And you could be seeing someone else for all he knew. But you were in Boston with _him_. You had no idea how long this pandemic would last.

“Is that why you invited me?” you asked.

No. _No._ He hated that sadness that crept into your eyes.

What he hated more? That you weren’t confirming or denying that other person in your life. He didn’t _think_ you’d be here with him if there was someone else. But…

Leaning forward, he slid his other hand over your other knee.

“No,” he said, looking you in the eye. It wasn’t the only reason anyway. “I thought we could get to know each other… I’d really like to give this a try. Just me and you.”

Your gaze searched his and he wanted you to believe him.

“How about snacks and that movie?” Chris offered, ready to dodge out of the conversation for now before he said something stupid.

***

You ended up on the sofa after the second bag of popcorn. Chris burned the first one in the microwave. He’d brought you a glass of ice water, but you’d pulled a beer from the fridge when you followed him into the kitchen for snacks.

“You sure about that?” he cocked a brow at you.

You nodded. Honestly, the three vodka tonics should have been enough to lull you into a happy evening. But the serious conversation you’d wandered into after the Rock’em Sock’em Robots had your nerves on edge. And _you’d_ started it.

You were here in Boston and you didn’t know for how long. Chris was telling you he wanted to get to know you.

_Now I want to know more about you…_

To say you were scared was an understatement.

You were right back to that weekend, weren’t you? There was no way there was going to be a relationship with Chris. He might think that now but once the pandemic was over and he was back to acting, his political interests, and the rest of the world, it would be all the same thing.

So you did what? Enjoyed it while it lasted?

The weekend you’d spent in his house in California did a number on you. Had you rethinking dating altogether for a while. How were you ever going to survive _this_?

_Jurassic Park_ played. The T-Rex had found the group in the park. Chris was stretched out on his back, you were pretty much using him for a body pillow. How you ended up there, you couldn’t have said.

His heartbeat was a steady drum in your ear, and he was warm, solid beneath you. When you hiked up your thigh, you accidentally bumped the front of his jeans.

_Well…_

Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing in your brain. Maybe it was the fact that you had Chris here under you, how many women would kill for _that_ opportunity? He was definitely interested…

When your hand slid down to cup him through his jeans, his heartbeat sped up a little. Chris sighed above you.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Your fingers plucked at the button and zipper of his jeans, your hand sliding into the front of his jeans.

“You don’t want to?” you asked him, your voice sounding rough even to your own ears.

“Didn’t say that,” he muttered, pulling himself up to lean against the pillow at the arm of the couch.

As he did that, you’d worked at pulling down his jeans, his boxers.

“God, baby,” he whispered when you got your hands and mouth on him.

You teased Chris relentlessly because he was so damned impatient. He’d let you have your fun. For a while. And you just loved the way he squirmed under you as you teased the swollen head of him with your lips and tongue, as you teased his sac with delicate fingers. You drop your mouth to his balls, always being gentle there, making him gasp between quick nips with your lips or lashes of your tongue.

By the time you were working him into your mouth, towards your throat, Chris’s breathing was rough and his hands were in your hair, guiding you to go faster. Guiding you to hold him in your throat for just a beat or two before letting you up for air.

You did your damnedest to bring him off. You wanted to feel like you were controlling _something_ tonight. You busted out every trick you knew, wanting to make him come hard, to shout it was so good.

So you didn’t expect Chris to tighten his grip on your head, to carefully pull you off him.

“Gotta stop,” he managed between breaths.

You swiped at your mouth, staring up at him. “I want you to come.”

Chris grinned at you. “I do too… No reason we can’t do that together.”

The world spun when he rolled you away and hurriedly hauled up his jeans. It spun some more when he scooped you off the couch and up the stairs.

“If I remember right,” Chris huffed like he’d been running, “that night on the stairs started out something like this… So let’s skip that part…”

And he carried you right into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before Dodger could follow you up. Chris dropped you on his bed and pulled off his sweatshirt while you yanked off your socks, worked out of your leggings. You’d just managed to toss them off the side of the bed when he crawled up after you.

“Take it off,” he told you as he backed you into his pillows.

You whipped your hoodie off and tossed it away too. Chris wasted no time getting his hands on your breasts.

“Knew you weren’t wearing a bra,” he muttered around one nipple before lashing it with his tongue. “You drive me crazy. You know that?”

You would have answered but he was working his hips in between your thighs and you could already feel the wet cotton of your panties brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. Oh, but the pressure felt good. Chris pressed himself into you, firm enough to take your breath away but not enough to hurt as he used his hands, lips, and tongue on your breasts until you thought you’d lose your mind.

You were rolling your hips up into him, seeking friction, when he finally lifted to claim your mouth in a dirty kiss before he started working the rest of his clothes off. When he climbed back on the bed, he was beautifully naked. He’d taken himself in hand as his gaze roamed over you with greed.

“Roll over, baby,” he told you.

Grinning, you rolled onto your stomach, yelping when he delivered a stinging slap to one ass cheek. You pulled a pillow under your chest and hung on as you felt the heat of him move over you.

He yanked your panties off in a hurry. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see him lower his head, nip at the other cheek with careful teeth. When he soothed it with his tongue, your core clenched.

You wanted him _so_ badly. That never really seemed to change.

With little finesse, Chris pushed your knees under you. You thought he wanted you on all fours, but he pushed your head back down to the pillows, leaving your ass up in the air for him. The position left you feeling vulnerable. Or it would have if those devilish fingers hadn’t started sliding along your slick pussy lips, the pad of one finger finding and teasing the swollen nub of your clit.

While you fought to breathe, you felt him shift behind you. A long finger slid easily into your channel on all the wetness he found there. He’d really worked you up. Another finger joined it, carefully exploring your inner walls while you tried to hold still for him, fighting to breathe. When the blue-eyed devil found your g-spot, he had you moaning, dancing on his fingers, and gripping the pillow under you hard.

When his tongue came into play on your clit, you cried out. Chris must have taken it as encouragement because he doubled down, taking you apart with calculated strokes inside you and a mad parade of kitten licks and crazy patterns on your bundle of nerves. One firm hand on your back held you in place and your thighs trembled as Chris kept at you, bringing you off twice in rapid succession.

The second one made you scream, made the edges of your world fade to black for a few seconds.

The heat of his body pressed into your back, the wide head of him pushing at your entrance as you came back around. Your hands clawed at the bedding as Chris pushed deeper into you with each stroke, holding your hips tight.

“Told you there’d be screaming,” he muttered, working himself into you.

Dodger’s low whine, the scratch of his nails outside the door had Chris chuckling. But it didn’t slow him down one bit in his efforts to get inside you.

You wanted to retort but your brain had short-circuited and you needed to breathe. Breathing was good.

Chris gave you just a moment to adjust, swirling his hips as he pressed into you.

When he started to move, his thrusts were slow, firm. It didn’t last. Chris began fucking your in earnest then, the slap of his hips meeting yours an obscene sound that blended with your moans and cries. Chris more than filled you and like this, his thrusts brought the slightest edge of pain. Good pain. His fingers tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with fierce movements and you loved it. You wailed when he began bumping your g-spot and he was at the perfect angle to do it.

“Gonna come again, baby?” he muttered breathlessly behind. “Gonna come all over me?”

You were going to answer but he was nailing that trigger inside you and you came hard, screaming and calling out his name the entire time. He wasn’t far behind you, his cock thrusting into you urgently until he caught his own release with a shout before collapsing over you. His cock twitching inside you and the pounding of your heart was all you were aware of for several moments.

You must have dozed off because when you opened your eyes next, you were draped over Chris again. You were in his bed, both of your naked under the covers, and Dodger was stretched out at the foot of the bed. The TV was on with the volume low.

When you glanced up, you found him smirking at you in the muted light.

“What?” you wanted to know.

“You passed out on me,” Chris sounded more than a little proud.

Shaking your head, you put it back down on his chest. “I guess I did.”

You felt him press a kiss into your hair. “Sleep.”

“M’kay,” you muttered, on your way.

“Told you that you’d end up in here,” he couldn’t resist adding.

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

_Beautiful bastard._


	5. Chapter 5

Chris wasn’t there when you woke the next morning, naked in his bed. Neither was Dodger. You didn’t know where they went so you grabbed your clothes and made your way back to _your_ room.

You cursed yourself for an idiot for winding up in his bed. Then again, you reminded yourself that _you_ started it. And Chris didn’t _make_ you drink.

Your phone was ringing, and you rushed to answer it, tripping on a rug just before you reached it. Your head met the edge of the bedside table hard and you sank onto the floor, holding a hand to your head as it throbbed. Your phone stopped ringing, so you unsteadily climbed to your feet and made your way to the bathroom to assess the damage.

_That’s going to bruise._

The bathroom mirror revealed a scuff over your right brow that just broke the skin but wasn’t bleeding. You really hoped the eye didn’t black but you were betting it would.

Then your phone started again.

Not too fast, you went back into the bedroom and saw that it was Sabrina was calling. With a sigh, you answered.

“Thanks for calling me,” she started with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry,” you told her. “I forgot.”

“Okay, so? What the hell are you doing with him in Boston?” Sabrina wanted to know.

“It’s a long story,” you tried.

“We’re in quarantine,” she reminded you. “Nothing but time.”

“Come on,” you told her. “He asked… I decided to go.”

“I thought you were done with him,” Sabrina’s tone softened. “It was kind of perfect the way you ended it. No muss. No fuss. No angsty breakup talk… You seemed happy.”

“Yeah,” you told her, sinking on the edge of the bed. What she said was true. “I know… I know.”

“So you went from being in a good place to going with him to _Boston_?” Sabrina’s tone was inching up again.

“Are you _mad_ at me?” you had to ask.

“I’m worried about you,” she told you. “I don’t know what he promised you to get you to agree to go out there with him but… I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“He didn’t promise me anything.” That was the truth.

“So… did you agree because of money?” she wondered aloud. “Were you worried about making rent or…?”

“No, I’m looking for jobs right now,” you told her, trying not to find offense in her words. “It’s nothing like that.”

Her deep sigh made you do the same.

“I just don’t… I don’t want him to just use you,” Sabrina admitted. “And you don’t know how long this will go on. Some are saying it could last for months. Maybe you should get out of there while you can… Come home.”

You blew out an exhale. You knew there was some truth to what she was saying. What if Chris told you to get lost and you _couldn’t_ travel back to L.A.? Where would you go?

_Fuck._

“Just give it some thought,” she told you.

“I just _got_ here.” You sounded sad to your own ears. “Hey, enough about me. What are you up to?”

Sabrina explained that she was trying to work at writing for a content mill to make extra money. Talking about being home with her cats. You dug through your bags to find some aspirin for your head, grateful you had your water bottle with you.

You had no idea Chris was listening outside your door.

***

Chris returned from a run. Dodger had gone with him and he was having breakfast downstairs. Chris was hoping to grab a quick shower and then maybe wake you up, sleepy and warm in his bed. He remembered sex with you in the morning from that weekend, remembered how good it felt to roll with you in his sheets, to hold you.

As he made his way up the stairs, he realized that he felt _happy_.

You were here at his invitation and you’d be here for a while. It had been _his_ idea. Instead of working to keep someone from getting attached, he was working at trying to get closer to you.

He shook his head. How long had it been since he looked forward to getting home because he had someone waiting for him?

When he reached his room, you weren’t asleep in his bed. Your clothes weren’t thrown across his floor.

Chris frowned, headed for the room you’d picked for yourself and found the door locked. He heard you talking in there. You were on the phone.

“Come on,” he heard you said. “He asked… I decided to go.”

Were you talking to _him?_ It was about you coming to Boston with him. That he was pretty certain of.

Chris wasn’t proud of himself for standing there, lurking outside your door.

“Yeah,” you went on. “I know… I know.”

What was he saying?

“Are you _mad_ at me?” you asked, sounding worried.

What was the asshole saying? Chris locked his jaw, wishing the door wasn’t locked so he could walk in there.

There was a beat before you said something else.

“He didn’t promise me anything.”

What? Mystery guy wanted you to explain _why_ you’d come to Boston with him? It wasn’t his fucking business.

And you sounded so damned sad when you said that, had his anger blending with guilt. Whatever you thought of Chris right now, you didn’t believe him when he told you his intentions were to give a relationship with you a chance. And that was his fault, wasn’t it?

He had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who made sure you understood that it was friends-with-benefits. He was the one who told you that he reserved the right to see other people. You could see others too if you wanted. That’s what he told you. It was cold comfort now.

Right now? You seeing anyone else was the _last_ fucking thing he wanted.

Scrubbing a hand through his sweaty hair, he sighed. He needed a better game plan.

“No, I’m looking for jobs right now,” you went on. “It’s nothing like that.”

The fuck? Wait. _Wait._ Was he trying to say you were out here for money?

Chris was getting more pissed by the second. The asshole obviously didn’t know a lot about you. You wouldn’t accept his help. It would take an act of Congress for you to agree to let him buy you a coffee back on set, back when you were together the first time.

You didn’t even count that. The thought didn’t sit well with him.

“I just _got_ here,” you said after a couple of beats.

Yes, you had. There was no doubt in his mind that the asshole was trying to get you to come back, to return to L.A.

Okay, then. Chris would make you want to stay in Boston.

_Challenge accepted._

***

You showered and put yourself together. You had some decisions to make. The conversation with Sabrina weighed heavily on your mind. Maybe you needed to get back to L.A. You could talk to Chris about it.

Just maybe he wouldn’t even be that pissed.

You didn’t do a lot with makeup because of the shot to the head you took. But you pulled on a cute sweater, did something with your hair. With your favorite jeans, you decided you looked as good as you could with facial bruising. Chris wasn’t in his room, the bed was made, so you headed downstairs.

“There she is,” Scott greeted you with a smile from the kitchen table. “I – Sweetie, what happened?”

Zach looked up from his phone at you. Chris who was actually cooking, turned to look at your and frowned.

“What the hell?” Chris muttered.

You held up a hand, shook your head.

“I fell,” you explained. “Tripped on a rug trying to answer my phone. I’m okay. Just clumsy.”

The look Scott shot his brother would have had you laughing if Chris didn’t look a little panicked. He marched over to you, gently grabbing your chin and angling your face up so he could take a look. You’d expected mild interest, not this determined examination.

“You okay?” he asked low, concern clouding his blue eyes and his gaze flew over your face.

“Yeah,” you told him, wishing he wouldn’t make a fuss. “I’m fine.”

Scott shuffled behind him, going to take over at the stove. Chris directed you to take his seat at the kitchen table before heading for the freezer and pulling out an ice pack. Pulling a kitchen towel from a drawer, he wrapped it around the pack before kneeling in front of your chair.

“Does it hurt?” Chris asked, pressing the pack against your head.

“I took aspirin for it,” you explained. “It’s okay, promise.”

“Your vision okay?”

It was fine. You nodded.

Chris shot you a look. “Keep this on it,” he said gently.

Zack smirked at you as Chris went to help Scott finish cooking.

“We came to hang out with you today,” he said. “We brought Cards Against Humanity.”

You had to laugh at that. You’d played that a few times with Sabrina. “Sounds fun.”

“What did you put in these eggs?” Scott demanded behind him.

Zack laughed while scrolling through his phone. “Here we go.”

The brothers did have a minor tiff. Scott wasn’t happy about the eggs. Chris hadn’t used cheese. Chris refused to let him take over the bacon, insisting he was much better at it than his younger brother.

“Why did you take those out?” Scott wanted to know.

Chris muttered something, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Okay.”

What was that?

They served up breakfast, still arguing but it wasn’t serious. Just siblings. Chris had one jar of regular grape jelly for toast which Scott was not happy about. You exchanged amused glances with Zach as they brought everything over to the table, Scott serving you.

“This is yours,” Scott said placing a plate before you. “Apparently you like your bacon very chewy.”

You nodded and thanked him. But you were confused.

How in the world did Chris know you liked practically raw bacon?

Chris just winked at you.

The four of you enjoyed breakfast and while the brothers caught up with each other over coffee, you and Zach cleaned up and loaded the dishwasher. 

More talking and then a stroll around Chris’s property. It was pretty much a farm and the view was beautiful. You found a chewed baseball and played with Dodger while the three guys talked nearby. You didn’t notice the looks Chris cut you as you romped with his dog, playing fetch, telling him he was the best boy.

Cards Against Humanity with Scott? It was the game on an entirely different level. Especially when you got caught with “Tentacle Porn.” Zach made you all pim’s cups but you didn’t have more than the one. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so much in your life, until your sides were sore.

It was getting late in the evening, when Scott and Zach decided to head back.

“You guys coming to Mom’s for dinner?” Scott asked, grinning at you.

“Will in a couple of days,” Chris told him. “Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.”

You were grateful for that. The thought of meeting his mother made you nervous enough. But with the bruising?

“Will do.”

You hugged Scott and Zach before they left, Scott whispering something to Chris before they walked out of the house.

Chris fed Dodger, who loved all the attention he got today, before joining you on the couch with his takeout menu collection.

“So what do what do we want for dinner?” he asked, handing them to you. “How’s your head? You need something for it?”

It had started to ache. “Yeah, I’ve got some aspirin upstairs. I’ll just –”

Motioning for you to stay put, he went and got you a glass of water, some Ibuprofen.

You decided on pizza, letting him handle the details because you liked pizza. It didn’t matter what type. While you waited, he felt the need to tell you embarrassing stories about Scott growing up, keeping you laughing even though your head smarted. To be fair, he told you a couple of stories on himself.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?” he finally asked.

You nodded. “One brother. He’s several years older than me. And not _nearly_ as much fun as Scott.”

“Scott’s great,” he admitted. “I’m lucky there… You and your brother close?”

You shrugged. “Not really. He took on what our parents consider to be a serious job. He works in IT, has a wife, a couple of kids. I’m nine years younger than him, granted. But they can’t understand why someone who is almost thirty hasn’t gone back to school to get a real job, found a husband…”

Chris scoffed. “I’m pushing forty.” He studied you for a moment, the way his gaze moved over you had your heart shifting in your chest. Made you wish… “My parents really don’t give me shit about what I’m doing with my life so…”

“Why would they?” you had to ask. “I’d say you’ve been successful, Chris.”

He blew out an exhale, dropping his gaze. “Yeah.”

It was an odd reaction. But you didn’t have long to think about it because the pizza had arrived. No contact delivery but he left a hefty tip.

Then there was the debate on what to watch. You finally decided to check out the Mandalorian while you ate since neither of you had started it. You ended up leaning back into him on the couch with your feet stretched out.

By the third episode, you were dozing. It wasn’t that the show was boring. It was anything but. You’d had a fun day and you were so relaxed, wrapped up in his arms watching TV.

“So ready to go to bed?” he purred in your ear.

You nodded. Then you thought about that.

Sitting up, you stretched. “Yeah, I should probably head up.”

You headed for the stairs while Chris turned off the TV, turned off lights. You were brushing your teeth in a big t-shirt and sleep shorts when he just walked right in. You finished your teeth quickly because he was standing there waiting.

“What’s wrong?” you asked carefully.

Chris shook his head. “Just seeing if you were coming to bed.”

“Chris, I think I’m just going to sleep in here,” you explained, darting around him out of the bathroom.

“Why?”

There he stood, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom with his hands clasped around his belt, watching as you plugged in your phone and pulled your bags off the bed in his guestroom.

What did you say to that? He was apparently expecting an answer.

“You slept in there last night,” he pointed out.

“That’s not _all_ I did there last night.”

“I’m not expecting sex.” Chris motioned to your head. “Should probably keep an eye on you actually.”

You blew out an exhale, pulled back the covers to get into bed.

“Okay,” he said. And you thought he meant to head for his own room.

Oh, no.

He walked around to the bedside table, pulling your charger out of the wall, grabbing it, and your phone while you stared at him in confusion.

He scooped you easily out of the bed and headed for the hallway, turning out the light as he made his way to his room. Dodger wagged his tail at you in greeting from the foot of the bed.

Carefully, he placed you on the bed, tucking you in.

“We good now?” Chris smirked at you.

You weren’t going to win this argument and you were too tired to really care. You watched as he plugging in your phone and placed it on the bedside table on your side. You grabbed it, seeing you had a few texts from Sabrina, another from Jordan.

It was nice that he was checking on you. You really hoped he and Keith were doing okay all things considered.

Jordan: Come back. I miss you.

Then there was a sequence of cry faces that made you smile. You could just hear Jordan say it too. Sabrina must have told him where you were.

You decided to answer him tomorrow. You weren’t going to worry about your earlier conversation with Sabrina. Maybe you’d talk to him about heading back to L.A. tomorrow. Maybe you should.

But today had been a good day.

Putting your phone back on the table, you saw Chris climb into bed. Not a stitch on.

He caught you staring at him. “What?”

You smiled, shook your head.

Chris settled on his back, patted his chest. “Come here.”

You weren’t turning that down since you were here already. Stretching out with your head on his chest, you got comfortable and drifted off to sleep, loving the feel of his fingers sifting through your hair.

***

The change in your breathing told Chris you were asleep.

Chris enjoyed the day. It made him realize how much he missed the days you spent on set with him. He loved to hear you laugh. You had a big laugh for someone half his size. He liked how you’d seamlessly blended in with Scott and Zach too.

A nice quiet evening at home. _That_ he could get used to.

And then you were going to sleep in the guestroom.

Chris shook his head. Why? Had you planned to call your mystery guy back? Give him a chance to talk you into going back to L.A.?

Not proud of the thought when it popped into his head, Chris’s gaze moved to your phone. He wondered if you still used the same PIN.

Breathing out an exhale, Chris tried talking himself out of it. He had no business going through your phone. You were here with him, not in L.A. with the other guy. And you might not take it well if you found out he’d invaded your privacy.

Chris knew a lot about having one’s privacy invaded.

As he gazed down to see you sleeping on his chest, looking happy in sleep, he tried putting the thought out of his head.

He decided to watch a movie on Netflix until he fell asleep. That had been the plan. But now that he had it in his head to check your phone, he couldn’t let it go. It was wrong. He knew if he did see messages from the fucker that it wouldn’t make him happy. No matter what it was. And it would be his own fault.

Chris told himself to just go to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, he eased you onto his side so he could go to the bathroom. When he came back, he went straight to your bedside table and picked up your phone.

The PIN was the same. He got right in.

Chris saw a text from “Jordan” first thing. It was a short message that he didn’t even have to tap on.

_Come back. I miss you._

Chris’s jaw locked as he put the phone down, checked that you were still asleep, and climbed back in bed.

Now he was wide awake. And fuming.

His mother would tell him he deserved the upset for invading your privacy. And she was probably right.

But what a fucking situation. Yeah, a big part of it was his own fault. He’d own that.

But this guy?

Chris needed to think this through. You’d asked him to leave your place that night when he’d asked if you were seeing someone else. You’d asked if it were just a case that he didn’t want you but didn’t want you with anyone else.

He’d given that a lot of thought.

No, it was more than that. _You_ were more than that. Yeah, he was a jealous fucker. He’d admit it.

Chris had brought you here to give the two of you a chance. To see if you would work. He was really liking how it was going so far.

Was he just going to let Jordan in L.A. chip away at his chances with you on the side?

_Not a chance._


	6. Chapter 6

It was raining the next morning. The first thing you saw was water streaking the window in Chris’s bedroom as you stretched in his bed. The sound of it hitting the roof, the calm patter above your head, almost lulled you back to sleep.

Chris and Dodger were up and gone so you were alone again. And maybe that was a good thing. Should you talk to him today about heading back to L.A.? Should you stay here?

The questions swirled in your head as you went to your room, showered and dressed. The bruise above your eye looked worse today but you weren’t going to worry about it. By the time you hit the top of the stairs, you smelled coffee, heard voices. By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, you realized Scott was there with him.

And Scott sat at the table in the kitchen with Chris, his head in hands. You could hear the tears in his voice.

_What happened?_

Chris smiled at you when he noticed you, Scott looked up after a moment, looking miserable.

“Scott?” you had to ask, heading straight for him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Scott blew out a sigh, swiping at his tears with a hand. He just looked so lost.

“Well, Zach and I had a huge fight,” he explained. “And he’s packing up and making plans to head back out to California.”

His voice broke on the last part and you were there, wrapping your arms around him.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” you told him. “Right? We’re all under a lot of pressure right now.”

Scott’s breath was shuddering, and he shook in your arms. The man was miserable, fighting just to get the words out.

“I can’t _fix_ it,” Scott told you. “We were up all night trying to work things out and… He’s not even willing to try… I don’t understand…”

Chris kept a hand on his brother’s back, trying to lend him comfort. “When is he leaving?”

“He’s trying to get a flight out of Logan… but it’s a little tricky right now,” Scott told him.

“Might buy you some time,” Chris tried.

“It would if he would listen,” Scott told him, dissolving into tears.

“You’re exhausted,” Chris told him. “Why don’t you get a nap?”

Scott nodded to his phone on the table.

“I’ll wake you up if he calls,” Chris assured him. “Or Mom calls. I swear.”

You watched them rise from the table and Chris led him into the living room. You decided to get some breakfast going. At least you could do something.

_Poor Scott._

What the hell happened since yesterday? Everyone seemed happy. You’d spent the day together. And now Zach was just leaving him? There had to be some reason.

And _maybe_ if Zach finds a flight back to L.A. you could be on it with him.

The thought of just leaving made you feel more than a little bit guilty. Wouldn’t it be shitty to just take off with Zach to L.A. when Scott was so upset? And you’d told Chris you’d spend quarantine with him.

_You don’t owe Chris anything. Nor Scott. That has nothing to do with you. Maybe Sabrina’s right._

Shaking your head at yourself, you set about getting out eggs, butter, cheese – because you remembered Scott liked cheese in his eggs. You’d just gotten your eggs mixed when Chris wandered back into the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss into your hair.

“He’s a wreck,” he whispered.

“What happened?” you asked in a low voice. “Everything was fine yesterday.”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Moving down the counter, Chris poured two cups of coffee. You watched him mix one with a ton of cream, a couple of packets of sugar. He smiled at you when he slid it towards you. You shook your head as you put the eggs on. It was just how you liked your coffee. He scored again.

When your phone hummed in your back pocket, you jumped in surprise. Plucking it from your pocket you smiled to see it was Jordan calling. But it was a bad time. You refused the call, texting him to let him know you’d call him back after breakfast.

Talking to _him_ was bound to cheer you up.

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you got back to breakfast. It was a couple of beats before you felt Chris’s gaze on you.

No, he was actually scowling. What was he mad about?

“Are you okay?” you had to ask.

He nodded but you knew better. What had crawled up his ass?

“Am I doing this wrong?” you motioned to your eggs, trying to sound playful to lighten the mood. Maybe he was tired, and you had no idea how long he’d been up with Scott.

Chris looked surly when he shook his head, not even touching his coffee. He had a white-knuckle grip on the counter.

“Want me to take over?” he asked you, his tone deceptively calm.

“Why?”

“Don’t you need to go call Jordan?”

As you watched color rise in his face, his words stopped you cold. Jordan hadn’t worked on the _Defending Jacob_ set. You couldn’t recall ever telling Chris about your costumer friend either.

What was this about?

How did he know about Jordan?

“What?” You didn’t understand. “What about Jordan?”

Chris blew out an exhale. He looked pissed.

“I’d be glad to finish up breakfast,” he said slowly, “if you need to call him.”

_Wait._

“How did you know that was Jordan who called me?” you wanted to know. “For that matter, why do you know anything _about_ Jordan, Chris?”

The tense lines in Chris’s face eased at that. His gaze moved over you as you turned the eye on the stove off.

“Well?” you pressed. “Because Jordan never worked on the Jacob set, not here in Boston or back in L.A. And I don’t remember ever telling you about him. Of course, how would I have had a chance? We just hooked up. It wasn’t like there was a lot of meaningful conversation going on.”

The ire in his expression was back in a heartbeat.

“I know you posted a picture of you sitting on his _lap_.” Chris released the counter and took a step closer, looming over you.

Things were starting to make sense.

“That _was_ him, wasn’t it?” Chris demanded.

You held your ground, folding your arms across your chest.

“It was.” You shook your head at him, huffing out a laugh. “That’s what set this all off, wasn’t it? I was right the first time. I honestly believed your bullshit story about finding my hoodie at your house… I _believed_ you. But now that I think about it, that picture of me and Jordan? That was taken the weekend before you texted me.”

“The story about the hoodie was _not_ bullshit. I texted—”

“See? I was right. You didn’t see me as anything but a commitment-free convenience until you saw that picture,” you cut him off, staring him down. “I’m not good enough for you but you don’t want me to be with anyone else. Who are _you_ supposed to be? I can’t…”

“Oh, please,” Chris shot back at you. “I was upfront with you about _everything_ from the beginning. Just because I wasn’t in a place then where I felt like I could offer you a relationship didn’t mean that I didn’t think you were good enough. Don’t keep putting those words in my mouth.”

“But you didn’t even notice when I disappeared,” you pointed out. “And all of a sudden you see a picture of me sitting on someone else’s lap on Instagram and _now_ you’re ready for a relationship?”

“That wasn’t the reason I texted you and you know it.” Chris crossed his arms across his chest now. “And I didn’t hear from you either. It takes two to run a relationship.”

“It wasn’t a relationship,” you shot at him. It was spiteful but it still came out.

“Stop fucking saying that!” he yelled, throwing his hands up.

“But you didn’t answer my questions, Chris. Jordan’s not on Instagram so I couldn’t tag him. I didn’t name him in the caption… How do you even _know_ about Jordan?”

It didn’t take you long to come up with the answer. “Chris, did you go through my phone?”

Chris was nothing if not a terrible liar. You had your answer in the widening of his gorgeous eyes, the way his scowl faded.

“I didn’t go through your phone,” Chris tried, holding his hands up in front of him.

“Yes, you _did_ ,” you told him. “I never remember to change the pin… Wow.” 

With that you headed out of the kitchen. Chris was on your heels. He got in front of you, blocking you at the bottom of the stairs. You saw Scott sitting up on the couch from the corner of your eye.

“Let me by,” you demanded. You were _done_.

Chris didn’t budge. “I didn’t go through your phone. I just saw a text notification from him. Saying he missed you and for you to come back.”

“I don’t care how little or how much you saw, Chris,” you told him. “You invaded my privacy… Even if we were in a relationship – and we’re most definitely _not_ – you have no right! No right at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris was starting to falter. He had to know how badly he’d fucked up. “I could have gone through your phone, but I stopped at that. I wasn’t happy with myself about it but…”

“But?”

“But you agreed to spend the quarantine with _me_ ,” Chris tried. “You came out here to Boston with _me_. And you’re what? Going to keep up with another guy. I thought we were–”

“You thought nothing,” you cut him off. “I never agreed to anything, Chris. And if there is someone else I’m talking to right now?” Jordan was your gay best friend but there was _no way_ you were going to mention that right now. “I would consider that fair based on our original agreement. Remember that? Friends-with-benefits? Non-exclusive? Ring a bell?”

Color darkened Chris’s face again as you tried to dodge around him. The gorgeous fucker was just so much bigger than you were.

“Are you really going to throw that in my face every time we have a fight?” Okay, that look was a little scary. “Really?”

“No,” you said as calmly as you could manage. “There’s not going to be another fight. This is _over_.”

You tried to get around him again.

“Let me go upstairs,” you demanded with as much bravado as you could muster with him staring you down as he was.

“What are you going to do?” he asked with a calm that didn’t match the scowl on his face, the tense lines of his body.

“I’m going to get in touch with Zach,” you explained, “and work with him on catching a flight back to Los Angeles.”

“No, we’re going to talk about this,” Chris’s tone was heated. “We’re going to—”

“Stop,” Scott said from behind you. “Let her go.”

“Scott, you’re not in this,” Chris warned him.

“And you’re being a complete dick right now,” Scott countered. “Let her up the stairs. _Now_.”

Chris didn’t look happy, but he stepped back, and you scrambled up the stairs as fast as you could.

“Please tell me that last part about the friends-with-benefits non-exclusive agreement was bullshit,” you heard Scott say before you went into the room with your cracked heart aching and shut and locked the door.

***

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Chris. Now he was sitting in a plush chair in his living room with his head in hands while Scott was there listening to _him_.

Only Scott wasn’t exactly being supportive.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Scott demanded.

Chris was struggling with that question himself. He had no one else to blame. He had gone and looked at your phone. Yes, you had a point. It didn’t matter how little or how much. He still did it.

You already didn’t trust him.

Lifting his head, he met his brother’s gaze. “I know how that sounded.”

“Oh, you can’t spin this,” Scott told him. “You can’t spin this at all, Chris… I mean, that’s cold… Friends with benefits. Non-exclusive. Really? Then you convince her she had a shot with you just so you’d have someone to spend quarantine with?”

“No,” Chris said a little louder than he should have. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Scott asked carefully.

Chris didn’t know what to say.

“You’ve always been like this,” Scott pointed out. “Your mind takes you in so many directions. This new movie, this new political project. Your family? You’re stuck with _us_. Your friends you party and sing karaoke with? Yeah, you remember them. Other people? Significant others? You’ve always struggled. You don’t communicate well and expect them to understand when everything gets fucked up.”

“I communicated very clearly with her.” Chris had. “I didn’t look her up just to keep me company for the lockdown.”

Scott nodded. “It did shock me when you told me you were bringing her back to Boston with you. That seemed like a big commitment for you.”

“You think I can’t commit?” Chris wanted to know.

Scott’s gaze was speculative. “I didn’t say I thought you _couldn’t_. It’s just something I’ve rarely seen.”

Chris didn’t know what to say to that.

“But _why_ did you look her up?” Scott asked. “Wait… So you stopped seeing her at some point. Then you invited her here?”

Frustration had him exhaling harshly. “It wasn’t that I stopped seeing her. That weekend she stayed at my house? When you met her? When she left that day, I just didn’t hear from her after that.”

Scott didn’t miss much. “So it was _her_ responsibility to get in touch with _you_?”

“Yeah, I know.” Frustration bled out into his tone. “I could have contacted her too… I did actually. _I_ made the first move.”

“Was she right? Was it because you saw her on Instagram with another guy?”

“No,” Chris denied. But he could feel the heat rising in his face. And this was his brother. Scott knew him better than anyone aside from their mother.

“Let me see it,” Scott bid him. “Show me the picture.”

Chris shot him a look but was already pulling out his phone. It took him a minute to pull up Instagram, to find her profile. It was one of the first pictures on her profile, so he clicked on it and handed his phone to Scott.

He really didn’t appreciate the way Scott started laughing.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Chris wanted to know.

“Really?” Scott’s gaze flitted back and forth between the phone and Chris. “You don’t see it?”

_What the fuck was he talking about?_

“Chris? That guy? He’s _gay_ ,” Scott told him, handing the phone back to him.

“What?” Chris stared at his brother. _Was he right?_

“Trust me on this one.” Scott’s gaze locked with his.

That stopped Chris cold. Jordan was gay?

“Does that change things for you?” Scott’s question broke in on his thoughts. “If he’s gay and not a threat to you, do you still feel the same way about her?”

Chris’s thought about that. Yeah, he had a jealous nature. He was a jealous guy and always had been. Sometimes, like right now, it got the best of him.

But there was more to it than that.

“Makes me feel like an asshole,” Chris admitted. The hurt look you’d flashed him when you shoved by him to run up the stairs? Yeah. _Asshole._

“Why did you get back in touch with her, Chris?” Scott asked him meaningfully. “Was it because you thought she moved on?”

Chris blew out an exhale, shaking his head. “No, I found that post after I’d decided to reach out to her.”

Scott nodded. “So you’d decided to get in touch before that. _Why_?”

Chris didn’t immediately know how to answer that.

“I remember visiting you that morning,” Scott told him. “There she was in your kitchen making breakfast in your shirt. And I was surprised to see her there, I really was, but… The way you’ve been with her every time I’ve seen you two together? I don’t want to jinx it but… You seem at ease with her. You seem _happy_.”

Chris nodded. His brother wasn’t wrong. He did feel at ease with you. He’d get so caught up in listening to you laugh or talking to you about anything. It was relaxing in a way he’d never really had before. But he remembered enjoying spending time with you on set, before you’d ever slept together. When he had to report to set for 5 AM call times, seeing you smile when you saw him had motivated him. Made him happy to be there.

Chris loved how you were with Dodger. He loved how you cuddled up to _him_ to watch TV and didn’t expect him to keep a conversation going. The silences were comfortable.

Sex? Chris loved sex with you. You were comfortable in your own skin, you were gorgeous, and you felt _so_ good. You were so responsive for him…

How the hell had he ever lost track of you?

“She’s different,” Scott pointed out.

Chris nodded. He couldn’t deny that. “Yes, she is. And I don’t deserve her. I know that.”

“Chris—"

“That weekend you’re talking about?” Chris cut him off. “There I was after breakfast, being a dick, trying to figure out how to explain that her spending the weekend didn’t mean…”

Scott nodded his understanding.

“She didn’t stick around for it,” Chris explained. “Called an Uber and just left. She kissed me goodbye but… That was the last time I saw her before all this.”

Scott smirked at him. “Did that bother you?”

“Maybe,” Chris told him.

“It’s been a while,” Scott told him, “since you had someone who wasn’t pissing herself to be with you but who wasn’t someone in the same position as you. She’s not a celebrity. What’s that like?”

Chris chuckled. “I’m not sure I remember.”

Scott smiled with him, looking tired but there to support him despite his own failing romantic situation.

“Not sure it matters,” Chris said quietly.

“Of course it does,” Scott told him. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

Chris’s heart broke a little in his chest. “She’s never going to forgive me for this shit. She’s going to fly out of here with Zach.”

Scott winced at that reminder, seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment.

Chris fell back into the chair, feeling so tired. He knew he shouldn’t have looked at your phone. He _knew_ he’d get caught and he sure as hell couldn’t lie with a straight face. He never could.

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to fix things with Zach,” Scott said finally. His brother looked so sad. “I really don’t.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Chris told him. He meant it.

“Certain feelings have to be there, right?” Scott shook his head. “Your situation is different… You brought her here to see what Mom thinks of her, didn’t you?”

Chris didn’t deny it. If he was going to try and have an actual relationship, well, his Mom was an important part of his life. His entire family was.

“She loves you,” Scott told him.

The hope of that thought had his heart skipping a beat.

“But if you really did have a friends-with-benefits deal with her? You have to realize she’s afraid she’s going to get hurt… Why should she believe there’s any future with you?”

_Why indeed._

“You’ve got to convince her that you want that future,” Scott said.

Chris threw up his hands. “That’s what I’ve been doing, Scott.”

Scott gave him _the look_.

“Try something else,” Scott told him meaningfully. “And think fast. It’s tricky to catch a flight out right now. But not impossible.”

Chris gazed up at the stairs. It was quiet up there.

His heart ached in his chest. He didn’t want you to leave.

But what could he do?


	7. Chapter 7

You sent Zach a message through Instagram, but you didn’t hear anything for a while. You called Sabrina next.

Sabrina, not surprisingly, read you the riot act once you admitted to her that you may have made a mistake in coming to Boston with Chris. There was no future with him, she explained. The media and his fans would tear you, a regular person, apart. If you managed to survive that? There was the time you’d spend apart and his famous friends who might not approve that would work against you.

That was when you started to defend Chris in your head as she talked. Sure, the media and his fans would disapprove of someone so ordinary as _you_. You knew that.

But you and Sabrina worked in the film industry, you longer than her. Yes, you knew there would be time apart and you didn’t give a damn what his friends might think. What mattered is what _you_ thought and what _he_ thought.

You were still in love with him like an idiot.

And Chris?

You just didn’t fucking know what to believe anymore. You really didn’t.

It was supposed to have ended when the production you worked on together ended. That was the plan. And Chris hadn’t noticed. You didn’t hear from him for weeks. You never expected to hear from him again honestly.

But you did. Chris texted. He showed up at your door at 2 in the morning.

But the _why_ was the most important thing here.

_Why?_

Sabrina had left you even more upset, if that were even possible, and you almost didn’t think to call Jordan. But you did. He was also one of your dearest friends and talking to _him_ did make you feel better.

Apparently, your version of how you’d ended up in Boston was a bit different than what Sabrina told him. Jordan mostly listened as you talked, stopping once in a while to ask questions.

“I know Sabrina thinks that I’m a convenient fuck buddy for him for this quarantine but…” you said finally.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jordan pointed out.

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“If you’re just using someone? The last thing you want to do is give them any shot at getting closer to you,” he replied. “If all he wanted was a fuck buddy, he’d find someone already there so they wouldn’t _have_ to stay with him. That’s the last thing he should want if he’s just looking for quick and cheap.”

You were about to argue but Jordan went on.

“You’ve been hanging out with his brother and his boyfriend,” Jordan continued. “Doesn’t his mother live there in the area too?”

She did and having dinner with her had been mentioned. You told him that.

“I know you’re being kind,” you told him. “But I really can’t afford to get my hopes up, Jordan. He still went through my phone.”

You heard him blow out an exhale. “Okay, he did and that’s an issue because you need to be able to trust him. But I’d rather have someone worried about who I’m talking to than to have to worry about who _he_ might be talking to.”

“Jordan, no,” you countered. “Don’t you see? It’s the jealousy. It’s the worry that someone is taking something of his. That’s why this won’t work. It’s not about me.”

“Bullshit,” Jordan shot back. “It’s very much about you. That hot piece of man could have anyone he wanted. Think about _that_. And he’s got _you_ at his house in Boston. And he’s worried about who _you_ are talking to.”

Your mind spun. Was it so hard for you to believe that Chris would want you? Was that the root of the problem?

“Does he know I’m gay?” Jordan asked.

You laughed. “No.”

That was when you saw the notification. Zach had finally answered you.

“Hold on,” you told Jordan, going over to see what Scott’s now ex-boyfriend sent you.

The message wasn’t what you would have expected. It simply said, “See you in a few.”

_Wait._ Was he coming here to Chris’s house? Was Scott still here?

“Who’s Zach?” Jordan asked.

You caught Jordan up on Scott and Zach, explaining that Zach was trying to catch a flight back to LA and you’d contacted him because just maybe you should too.

“Well, now that I know you’re not out there for money like Sabrina made me believe,” Jordan said slowly, “maybe give it a few days before you try to jump on a plane. You two should talk.”

Sabrina honestly thought you were trying to get money out of Chris?

“We’ve talked,” you explained. “He keeps telling me he wants another chance.” You snorted. “I keep telling him what we had wasn’t a relationship.”

Another deep exhale from Jordan. “But it meant something to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be doing any of this.”

“Well, yeah, we were friends-with-benefits before,” you pointed out. “It was easy for him. I don’t want another round of that.”

“But are you that sure that’s what this is? It doesn’t sound like it,” Jordan told you. “It sounds like he’s trying. It sounds like he’s frustrated too because he can’t make it work all by himself, you know? Maybe talk to him? Give it a few days. If you don’t feel any differently in a week or so? Catch a flight back to LA.”

A hard truth. You knew Jordan well enough to know he wouldn’t just throw that at you without a good reason.

Your heart clenched in your chest as you thought about your situation.

“I’m afraid,” you admitted. “How things were before? It just felt… awful. Knowing it was short-term. Knowing he was seeing other people. It just… it hurt.”

“Because there are feelings involved?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, know there absolutely were. At least on your part.

“Does it feel that way to you now?”

You were afraid to even contemplate that answer.

“No, but…”

“But you’re waiting for it to revert back to that?” Jordan knew your fear. “If you _really_ believe that, catch a flight back today.”

Oh, but you didn’t want to leave.

“Okay,” you told him. “I’ll try talking to him. I’ll give it a few days.”

“I’m right here if you need to talk,” Jordan told you. “Keith and I are just sitting tight. Finally trying to watch _Supernatural_.”

Anyone _would_ need a quarantine to binge that awesome series.

“Give Keith a hug for me,” you told him and then wrapped up the call.

You were so grateful you had Jordan in your life.

A soft knock at the door sent your heart racing. _Time to face the music._

You heard someone call your name from the other side of the door. But it wasn’t Chris or Scott. It was a woman’s voice.

_What’s this?_

You were on your feet, unlocking and opening the guest room door. The woman on the other side of the door was older, about your height, and had familiar eyes. Her smile was warm as her gaze moved over you.

It was Chris’s mother.

“I’m Lisa,” she told you. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

She had? You were surprised she knew anything about you.

“I’ve brought some lunch over,” she explained. “I’d love it if you would join us.”

It was just after two in the afternoon. You were starving considering you hadn’t had anything to eat so far today. Not after your fight with Chris.

You swallowed hard, not feeling ready for this. All you needed on top of everything else was to make a huge fool out of yourself in front of his mother.

“None of that.” Lisa motioned for you to follow her. Could the woman read your mind? “Come on.”

Some deeper instinct told you to do what she wanted.

You followed her down to the kitchen where Chris and Scott were busy warming things up. Zach was scrolling through his phone at the table, looking like he hadn’t slept in a month. But he smiled at you.

“You have a seat,” Lisa directed you, even pointing out the chair.

Chris glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression was certainly not one you’d seen on him before. He looked almost contrite.

Could Jordan be right?

Lisa clapped her hands together as she stood at the island in the kitchen. “We’re having a nice salad, some Manicotti, and bread.” To you she said, “Does that work? Do you have any allergies to anything?”

You shook your head. Chris kept cutting you glances over his shoulder as he worked at the stove.

You loved how Lisa had put her sons to work.

She’d also brought a bottle of red wine and began to pour it into glasses next to the five glasses filled with ice water she’d already prepared. And under her direction, in no time at all, lunch was served with water and wine. You were sitting next to Chris and directly across from Lisa.

You could almost forget everything because you were so hungry. And the fact that the Manicotti was one of the best Italian dishes you’d ever had the privilege of eating? You were quiet, listening as Lisa and her sons carried on a conversation about other family members or friends. Zach just managed to look out of place. Your heart went out to him and Scott.

The entire time you felt Chris’s gaze on you.

“You’re quiet,” Lisa chided you, smiling. “Was my Manicotti that good?”

You had to smile at that, nodding enthusiastically.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she told you, holding your gaze. “Zach found some flights out of Logan for early next week. He’s heading back to Los Angeles and I thought I’d let you know in case you decided you need to go too.”

You felt Chris tense next to you.

Lisa watched your expression carefully and you realized it was a calculated move on her part. She wanted to see how you’d react.

“Thank you,” you finally found your voice. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

Her smile was bright then, her gaze staying on you for a long moment. Pointing just above your eye, she studied your wound. “You fell?”

You nodded. “I’m not the most graceful person.”

“I think you’re lovely,” Lisa told you.

The conversation went on, Chris slowly becoming more animated. More like his normal self.

When Lisa announced she was taking Scott and Zach back to her house, you gave each of them a hug.

“Keep in touch,” Zach said low in your ear and you knew then, things probably weren’t going to work out between him and Scott. The thought made you sad. From the outside, they’d seemed a happy couple.

Scott wasn’t so quiet when you hugged him. “If my brother’s an ass to you again, call me. Okay?”

You smiled at Scott. “I’ll remember that. He’s not a good sport when I beat him at Rock’em Sock’em Robots.”

Scott laughed and it was nice to hear considering the day he was having. “He wouldn’t be. There’s really no challenge in beating him.”

Now you were laughing with him.

Lisa watched you with the oddest expression on her face. Then she gave you a hug that compressed your ribs. She was so warm, comforting.

“I’d love to have Chris bring you over for dinner one night so you can meet the rest of the family,” she told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Would you consider that?”

You could feel Chris’s gaze on you.

“I would,” you told her. “And thank you for lunch. It was wonderful.”

“You’re welcome,” she told you. Then she pointed at Chris behind you. “You. Apologize.”

Chris walked them out, leaving you to sink onto his couch and consider his mother’s parting remark.

_Apologize._

Did Lisa know what happened?

When Chris walked back in, his gaze riveted on you. You needed to talk. You didn’t know how it was going to go, but Chris didn’t hesitate to join you on the couch, sitting close.

“Your mother wants you to apologize?” you started.

Taking your chin gently in his hand, Chris tipped your head up to put your gaze on him instead of the floor. Chris slowly nodded.

“I told her everything,” he admitted.

_Wait._ “Everything?”

“Come on,” he told you, one side of his mouth curving up into a smirk. “When you get to know her better, you’ll realize there are no secrets from my mother.”

So Lisa knew how everything started?

“I’m not ashamed of any of this,” Chris explained, his eyes willing you to believe him. “Not any of the time I’ve spent with you. I’m not ashamed of _you_. But my Mom made me realize that _you_ might be. And that’s my fault. I made you feel that way.”

Your heart burned. Chris had struck at a truth that hadn’t occurred to you. You _had_ been ashamed of being his fuck buddy, of being a disposable girl in his life. Sure, at first, you were awed by just being involved with him because he was gorgeous, and who he was. But in time, you felt you let yourself down. You felt like you’d never be good enough.

And you knew you weren’t the only one.

“But I wasn’t a unique situation for you,” you pointed out. “You saw others… under the same circumstances.”

The pain that flashed in his blue eyes had you cringing in regret. But you weren’t throwing it up in his face as you had been up until now. No, you had a point to make.

“Why am I different?” you wanted to know. “Why was I the one you brought back to Boston for the quarantine?”

The sincerity of your tone had his pained expression easing. “I’ve been telling you,” his tone held a note of pleading. “I want a chance with you. I want something real with you. I just don’t know how to make you believe that.”

Chris cut you off before you could speak. “I know looking at your phone isn’t the way to do that. I’m sorry about that. I’m so sorry. You’re right. I had no right to do that.”

It made you happy that he understood that.

“I really didn’t log in,” Chris explained. “Just lit up the lock screen and saw that text.”

You wanted to believe that.

“But why look at my phone,” you asked, “if you were so focused on giving us a try? You had to know if I figured it out I’d be mad.”

Defeat bled into his expression. His shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, I’m a jealous guy,” he admitted. “I’ve always had a little bit of a jealous nature. I’ll try to do better about that… It just pissed me off to think you were talking to another guy while you’re staying here, in my house… I realize that’s my problem because you weren’t breaking any promises to me. But that’s why I looked at your phone.”

You shook your head. “You? Jealous of some other guy because of _me_?”

Chris stared at you hard. “Why is all of this so hard for you? I want another chance with you. I want you to meet the rest of my family. I want to spend time with you. I can’t promise anything else right now except that I don’t plan to keep you hidden… How can I make you believe that?”

You didn’t know the answer to that question yourself.

“How will this work if you’re going to be jealous of anyone I talk to?” you countered.

His hand returned to your face, slid up to palm your cheek. 

“There’s going to need to be trust,” Chris said carefully. “I need you to trust that I’m telling you the truth. That I want to give you – _this_ – a try. I do.”

Leaning in, he brushed his lips over yours. His beard was soft against your lips, your face.

“And I’ll trust _you_ ,” he whispered, gazing into your eyes. “If you say there’s no one else, I’ll believe you.”

Now he _wasn’t_ worried about Jordan?

“But this isn’t going to work if you won’t even try,” Chris said meaningfully. “I need to know you’re with me.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. You wanted to believe him. To believe in him. You really did. But the fear of being stung by him a second time? The fear of what you built up in your mind to be inevitable rejection was gnawing at you on the inside like a caged animal.

You remembered what Jordan said. “Can I have a few days?”

Chris hadn’t expected the request, it was obvious as you watched the emotions shifting on his face. But after a moment, he nodded.

“You can have all the time you want,” he whispered gently.

This time, you leaned forward to kiss him, to show him what that offer of time meant to you. Yeah, you were scared shitless about how this was going to turn out. But Jordan was right. If you weren’t willing to even try, you needed to get on a plane for home at the first opportunity.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Chris’s hands hovered over your back, almost as if he were afraid to touch you.

But you wanted more.

Your lips coaxed his to open for you and he did, allowing you to deepen the kiss. While the thought that the man in your arms was coveted by so many because of his fame, his beauty, the taste of him was familiar and welcoming. It always had been.

Your fingers slid up into his hair as you kept the kiss going, sliding closer to him on the couch. You felt his hands tremble as they clutched at your back. He was holding back, letting you lead.

And that would be nice once in a while. It wasn’t at all what you wanted right now.

Chris wanted a chance with you? A real one?

Pulling back, your breath coming fast, your gaze caught his. “You really want this? Me?”

The heat in those blue eyes had your core catching fire in anticipation. That sinful gaze moved over you slowly, taking all of you in.

“Show me,” you challenged him.

One large hand slid up your arm, carefully, gently.

You threw it off.

“No.” You shook your head. “Really show me.”

His brows inched up slightly and you could almost see the thoughts spin in his mind.

Chris was on your in the next instant, his kiss wild and hot as his hands roamed all over you. It was a dominating kiss and you surrendered quickly, desire flooding your body as he frantically worked to pull off your sweater, your bra.

“I’ll show you,” Chris vowed hotly.

You were on your back on the rug by the couch, winded and helpless as hot kisses rained over your face and neck. Chris teased your shoulders with lips and tongue while his fingers made your bare nipples ache, setting off sparks in your lower body. You tried to pull him down to you but those strong hands were furiously yanking your jeans and panties down your body, baring all of you to him as his mouth teased your flesh wherever he could reach.

You gasped in delight when he got his mouth on your breasts, the scratch of his beard had you grinding your hips up into him. Chris obliged you by fitting himself between your naked thighs, the rough denim of his jeans nudging into your wet heat. His hips rotated against you, a quick, dirty rhythm that worked you up even more. Made you crave him inside you.

The way he nipped at your nipples with light teeth before soothing them with wet lashes of his tongue was indecent, had you writhing beneath him on the floor. When that talented mouth trailed kisses down to the indent in your stomach, you gasped. He worked his tongue into as he would a more private part of you. His devious gaze let you know he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Roughly, Chris flipped you onto your stomach while you yelped and tried to find purchase. He grabbed your hips hard, yanking them up before burying his mouth between your thighs from behind. You cried out, your fingers digging into the rug beneath you as he held you tight in the awkward position and took you apart with his mouth.

“Chris,” you cried out as his tongue started darting in and out of your aching channel.

He answered with a deep moan, hanging onto you tighter and sliding his tongue down to your clit. You had no idea what he was doing but the teasing flutter quickly made you insane, had you fighting his hold because it felt too good, had release coming up on your so fast it took your breath away. You screamed and shook as he kept eating you like a man on a mission, lapping at you ceaselessly until you were riding that wave again, begging him.

“Oh, Chris,” you pleaded. “Please…”

_Please put me out of my misery and let me come again. Please don’t stop._ You weren’t sure what the please was for and in the next second, you blew apart as another release shook you like a rag doll, your cries filling the room. And Chris didn’t stop until you were boneless, lying prone beneath him.

You heard his belt, a zipper. His thighs pushed yours apart and you felt the hot, wide head of his cock poised at your entrance. Chris draped himself over you, his lips and tongue teasing the shell of your ear as he paused.

“Still want me to show you?” he purred, his other hand wrapping around your chest.

You nodded, panting. The room was still spinning.

“Use your words, baby,” Chris whispered, the tip of him pressing inside of you.

Yes, you wanted _that_.

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding wrecked to your own ears.

Chris started to push into you, stretching you around his cock so slowly. His weight held your hips to the floor, kept you from rushing him in any way. His mouth chained wet kisses across the back of your neck and over your shoulders in a way that was making your crazy.

“You want me to fuck you?” Chris whispered, even as he moved deeper.

His weight on you, holding you down only made you want it more. Made you wetter.

“Your little pussy feels so tight around me,” Chris whispered in your ear in a way that had you squirming but helpless to move. “So good.”

You felt the damp fabric of his t-shirt trapped between the muscular wall of his chest and your back. You felt the scrape of his jeans against your thighs as he slid home inside you, ending the thrust with a dirty grind of his hips.

“You’d better hang on.”

It was the only warning you got as he began to pound you into the rug. When Chris asked if you wanted him to fuck you, he sure as shit meant it. It was all you could manage to hang on as his hips worked you furiously from behind. Holding some of his weight off you on one elbow, his other hand slid up to your throat, holding you in place as he thrust in you in a way he’d only hinted at that night on the stairs.

His fingers pressed enough at your neck to make you feel lightheaded as he held you to the floor and pounded into you, raw and possessive. Your thighs tightened, held open by his and it seemed like the more you tried to move, to work against him, the harder he went at you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he taunted you. “You always were… There were nights I couldn’t wait… to get my cock in you.”

When the angle of his thrusts had him hitting your g-spot with each stroke, your entire body clenched, bracing for an orgasm that would probably finish you. His hand left your neck, sliding roughly under you until you felt the rough pads of his fingers teasing your clit in feather-light touches. When you tried to shift away from that touch, he dropped more of his weight on you.

“You wanted me to show you,” Chris reminded you, his own breathing a harsh rasp. “Now you’re going to take it… You're going to take my cock… You're going to take everything I give you.”

His hips powered into you, his fingers taking you apart. You went wild beneath him the final time you came, howling and fighting his hold like a woman possessed. You loved that he was holding you down, claiming you in such a primal way. You loved the way his movements built, the way the tension in his body had him pulling you into him like he meant to keep you there forever.

Chris roared when he came, his thrusts just shy of painful as he worked himself inside you with a few last powerful thrusts…

Chris dropped heavily onto the rug next to you, his rough breath blending with yours. After a moment, you heard him chuckle.

“You okay?” There was just a hint of worry in that question.

“Can’t. Move,” you grumbled.

It didn’t matter because carefully, he scooped you up, pulling you into his arms and onto his chest. You didn’t fight him. Your head over his heart was just about your favorite place to be.

“You’re giving me a few days?”

You didn’t like the hesitation in his voice. It made him sound smaller, unsure.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Let me _really_ show you,” Chris whispered. “Let me show you that we can be happy.”

Your heart swelled with hope even as your mind was breaking out the hazard lights.

What if Jordan was right? What if Chris meant it? What if he meant _all_ of it?

You’d regret it if you didn’t wait to see If that was true.

Slitting your eyes open, you glanced up at him. The emotion, the sincerity in his almost forced your gaze away.

“Let me give you everything,” he whispered.


End file.
